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hand writingThe Story

I used to know, this old, old story
It was my dream, my joy, my sorrow.
The tale was told, to young and old,
How love never waits for tomorrow.

Scattered through my many years
It’s lure never faded nor waned
Yet elusive, ever elusive,
The story never became real

This story was my song, my passion, my will
Promise of joy and happiness
Time and people had their way with it
Trampled, tarnished, scoffed at and derided

But that’s ok. There’s treasure there
Treasure only the bold and brave of heart may attain
Each word I write, each concept I pen
Leave me aching for my once upon a time

I used to know, this old, old story
Of a man, a woman, and love deeper than the vastness of space
Though time and circumstance should have stolen its pages
I still know it, I still know it…

The story lies in our kiss
Our held hands
Our locked gaze
This story remains my soul’s lifeblood

Because of you…

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