Beauty

Tomorrow, beauty, memory—
I can't choose which one—
to share my staring splendor with—
come the sun.

I took too long,
tomorrow shrunk,
memory grew more—

But, beauty, she,
returned unchanged,
as pretty moon, before.

………………………………………………………………
Copyright ©2007 Robert Fulton Laird
Website: www.flatsongs.com

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