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Wednesday, November 25, 2009

The Dance...


The world was calling you away
and your leaving was just your way
of staying with what you'd come to say
This pain is the poem slowly written
torn from the book
and cast into a corner of the attic
where no one could look
This rage for all to see
caught fire and burned all around me
till their was nothing left to burn
Now I stand alone in these attic walls
and reread that poem all yellowed with age
Tears heal such as healing is
so I cast that page into the flame
And there is no blame, only shades of regret
And those too will fade
as the world calls me away.


- Lindsey Buckingham ♥

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