68 (you have drunk the)


YOU HAVE drunk the draught of songs

that I poured for you,

and accepted the garland of my woven dreams.

My heart straying in the wilderness

was ever touched by the pain that was your own touch.

When my days are done, my leave-taking hushed

in a final silence,

my voice will linger in the autumn light

and rain-laden clouds

with the message that we had met.

 

 

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