Bound am I by strands of loneliness,
in a dark dungeon of never ending stress.
held captive by love's powers,
a servant to my own grief I pass the hours.
the tears are there within my eyes,
time and age have reeked reprise.
I yearn to feel her lips upon my own,
I touch the clothes she has worn.
I remember well the love within her eyes,
Tender kisses at morning sunrise.
How long, how long, become the day and nights,
the clock ticks out its melancholy beats,
and into darker thoughts my mind retreats.
I hear once again-the earth thunder on her coffin,
and my pain and grief screams out for peace.
I know only my own death will bring release. By L Bradburn
Nevis Grove
?Bolton.
Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.
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