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Love's Last Dying Dream ©

Shaw o' Inchrory
Cheshire, England

I stood there o so quietly ~ her hand held light in mine
figurine in its laid structure ~ a faded beauty, form divine
in a silence of words unspoken ~ mind's true requiem of time
was emotive phantasmagoria ~ aether, surreally sublime.

I watched an aged force ebbing ~ on death's relentless tide
as sought it a last presence ~ of my life's now dying bride
pre-eminently selective ~ and poorly fighting back a tear
at memory, recollected ~ as beauty's presence did appear...

Having no great panacea ~ or purported self it to enrol
I laid bare a Celtic passion ~ crying loud my very soul
as I sang to her a love song ~ in my tenor voice so clear
of all her exquisite beauties ~ their gifted sense of yesteryear.

There I sang of our love's story ~ a song's true simplicity
of all those graces granted ~ in our own dulcet harmony.

We walked in hand through memories ~ of achievements for to please ~
of our great moment's laughter; what needs be there to ease ~
where we had so many callings ~ of our past pleasures such as these.

My Celtic heart now breaking ~ I set out to enthral
as in voice of great emotion ~ I filled a memory's hall
With laments of past gone ages, ~ when Scotia had a queen
and my lover had more beauty ~ than I had ever seen.

As I sang of Gaelic's virtues ~ at their God birth o my race
emotion cried true venues ~ as they streamed down my face
My tortured soul a-dying ~ its now full sacrifice supreme
as I, tended love's own embers ~ in a last ~ and dying dream.

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