Lost Days

by David M Gunson



Where are the days, my love That we let lazily through our languid grip? Where are the days, my love That drifted so dreamily by? Where are the days, my love Upon which our hopes of a better time were set? Where are the days, my love Of happiness and contentment? Why could we not see my love This precipitous, calamitous fall? Which portent my love Did our gaze refuse to admit? Why are you so quickly gone my love? How has it all come to this?

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