Lost
The age-fog hangs in heavy drapes
Around your head, a cloudy gauze.
Your memory of my love escapes
Through mist and murk that seal the doors.
Your white and whispy hair I stroke
And whisper words of long-lived love.
Though shafts of sunlight prod and poke
They'll never pierce the gloom above.
Now sitting at the window you
Avert my gaze, my touch resist,
You cannot reach what's close or true,
With glassy eyes you face the mist.
Around your head, a cloudy gauze.
Your memory of my love escapes
Through mist and murk that seal the doors.
Your white and whispy hair I stroke
And whisper words of long-lived love.
Though shafts of sunlight prod and poke
They'll never pierce the gloom above.
Now sitting at the window you
Avert my gaze, my touch resist,
You cannot reach what's close or true,
With glassy eyes you face the mist.
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