Afterthoughts
Memory, that unlocked drawer
Where words go in,
Come out no more,
Is of the past.
An afterthought,
In which no thought
Is last or lost
But filed away
For some future date,
When the secret word is said
And the magic key is found
To loose the heart for love
And free the head
From hate.
.
Love, the sweetest plum
Which from the tree
Of life has hung,
Was picked
And then the eater felt
A melancholy sadness
In his heart
When from his paradise
He left, even though his love
He won’t depart,
Forever.
.
Eluding classification, description,
Evading imagination’s images,
Frustrating fragrant phrases,
And escaping time
Is this love of mine.
.
No ends of thoughts are thoughtless ends
When to my mind for thoughts I send
But all the thoughts that I can see
Are all the thoughts that endless be.
.
Another Afterthought
No thoughts had I of anything
Or at least that’s what I thought
I even thought I couldn’t think
But now I think I never thought.
Pretty imagery, nice poem.
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Thank you.
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