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The Girl I Loved


I see her sit by a placid pond,
Gazing desolately down the deep.
I reach my hand for her I’d forgone,
Who haunts me still whilst I sleep.

A smile can be seen upon her face,
Joy writ on her countenance.
I was once at ease with her grace,
But now feel nought but repentenance.

Under stars burning silver,
She rests aged one-and-three.
Behind stands a callous killer,
Yet it’s only me that I can see.

Her laugh as lovely as the waning wind,
Her eyes shining like a flameless fire…
She didn’t know as she grinned,
The girl I loved and still admire.

Her feet wouldn’t touch the grass as she’d run.
In everything she’d find joy,
Creative and imaginative ‘neath the sun,
Unaware of the plethoric ploy.

She never made it past one-and-eight –
I lost her long before;
The girl I loved became late,
Lost but a memory stopped at yore.

And I gaze at the girl I loved –
The girl who was, but may never again be –
And the killer in whose hands she was clubbed.
I gaze at two, yet see only me.

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