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All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems
permission to use
provided by the author. |
Our love's a place where I no longer live;
That was a home, and now is just a house.
I went back in my heart the other day,
But nothing in there struck me as my own.
Strange how life moves on, and what we cherish
Turns to something alien in our hands.
And later, when we try to comprehend it,
It fades into the twilight of our tears.
I woke again upon a sunny morning,
Alive to what I hoped would be a song.
You were yesterday, which I remembered
As though it were a year or two ago. |
