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THE GIFT ©

Katriona Wallace
Stirling, Scotland
2005

Never let me lose the wonder
Of the glory of your eyes
The gentle pressure of your lips
Placed upon my cheek at night

I am afraid of being left
On these haunted, lonely shores
A branchless tree bereft of leaves
Or stranded boat without its oars

What I most regret is such
To lose what I would never gain
The whisper of your voice at night
Words of joy and not of pain

The memory of it lingers on
My fingers touch its vacant place
A diamond sparkles on my hand
Only when I see your face



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