Faded
When I was with youthe world was brand new...
I saw colors so different
everything so innocent...
Mystical, magical, dancing lights
then you dimmed my sight...
Now everything is dull and gray
you took my colors away...
Faded
When I was with you11-04-2010
11/09/2010
10-17-2010
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
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