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When I met you
You took my breath away
In retrospect
I should have just walked away
And started breathing again
I don't remember, any more,
The exact shape of your hands
As I held them in mine,
Caressed them,
Memorized the length of your fingers,
The depth of your calluses.

I don't remember, any more,
Exactly your height, how much
Taller than me
You were, where
My head rested on your chest
When you held me tightly close.

I don't remember, any more,
Your scent, when we lay together
Creating our own
Magic rhythm,
Matching our heartbeats as we
Touched the sky, together.

I don't remember, any more,
The sound of your voice, calling
My name as though
It were a song
Within itself, a precious treasure
You valued with all your being.

And I don't remember, any more,
The color of your eyes, the shape
Of your lips,
Only...
How your eyes crinkled at the corners
And your laugh, as you told me,

"I love you."
Copyright by Ash L. Bennett, 2011
Worn out to extent of collapse,
My body clock about to elapse.
Turning from a strong mountain,
Cascading like a giant fountain.
Crumbling into a pile of rock,
Life slowing hearing it tick tick.
Feeling it's time to close my eyes,
Waiting for tomorrow's hidden disguise.
Time to dim the bright light,
Then with a sigh say night night.
This bodies ready for the heap,
Sweet Dreams my friends it's time to sleep.
© Grant Dickson 09/02/2016
I wrote this after so many greats of the music and movie world had passed away in the first months in 2016
T'was the night before school,
and all through the house.
Not a sound could be heard,
Not even a mouse.
It's that time again good grief ,
the uniforms nicely pressed .
Parents gave a sigh of relief,
kids back to school looking there best.
Hip hop hooray we all say,
at least till the next holiday.

Copyright Grant Dickson 14/08/2015
My interpretation of a night before Christmas
I was in love for once,
I was in maybe love twice,
I was in love more than thrice,
but was I ever really in love.

You may ask yourself this,
You may come to the same conclusion,
You may even still think you are,
But do you ever stop to ask yourself.

We walk around with permanent smiles,
We hold hands almost scared to let go,
We cuddle so close we can hear our heartbeats,
But are we suffocating the air from our bond.

Alas all that was beautiful has now turned ugly,
Alas all flowers have died like in the cold winter,
Alas all the happiness turned to sadness,
But most of all the laughter now into tears.

I loved along time ago not once,
not twice, not maybe more than thrice,
none was truer than the time you said,
But you said I'm in love with you, not just I love you and for a second I believed it true.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
He halted in the wind, and—what was that
Far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost?
He stood there bringing March against his thought,
And yet too ready to believe the most.

“Oh, that’s the Paradise-in-bloom,” I said;
And truly it was fair enough for flowers
had we but in us to assume in march
Such white luxuriance of May for ours.

We stood a moment so in a strange world,
Myself as one his own pretense deceives;
And then I said the truth (and we moved on).
A young beech clinging to its last year’s leaves.
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Oh Sumptuous moment
Slower go
That I may gloat on thee—
’Twill never be the same to starve
Now I abundance see—

Which was to famish, then or now—
The difference of Day
Ask him unto the Gallows led—
With morning in the sky—
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