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A Box of Chocolates, Melting

A box of chocolates
A dozen red roses
and memories of
our first night together,
are hanging,
by a single
gossamer thread.

Our dreams
of yesterday
are fading
into the
fog of tomorrows
and tomorrows
will awaken,
and be still born.

The world turns
into shadows,
leaving sunlight’s
fading hope
so far behind.

But you and I
are still dancing
to the music
we once played,
deep within
the hallways,
in the corridors
and in the cupboards,
of our failing fading minds.

The drummers,
in the madness of
their moments,
in the wildness
of their imaginations,
drown out
our last love song,
and the violins
are weeping
with the willow trees,
and our hearts
are no longer beating
to the rhythm,
or the meaning,
that they did
so many years ago.

You have your closet,
and I have my bedroom,
where an empty cradle
rocks our life a way.

Pictures of our laughter,
have drowned themselves
in the mildew,
and in the
sour milk
of yesterday’s
bitter tears
and our foggy
fading memories
carry our disappointments
as they hurry,
to where
has a meaning anymore.

Lick the chocolate
off your fingers.
Put the prickly roses
into water,
turn the children’s pictures
onto their faces,
faces that
we no longer know.

A box of chocolates
A dozen red roses
and memories
of our nights together,
are hanging by
a single gossamer thread.

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