The Lake

We walk,
along the shore of an
unnamed lake.
Barefoot,
we watch the drifting
mist, the color of a
Parisienne’s cigarette
smoke.
In this silence,
my words so pregnant
with promises broken,
sound a clarion call
to accusation.
Yet sainted your
undeniable,
inexhaustible
patience saves this
heart once more.

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8 Responses to The Lake

  1. kwicksand says:

    What a lovely poem to come home from work and read! Thank you Simon!

  2. 1jaded1 says:

    Lovely words, talented one.

  3. LadyBlueRose's Thoughts Into Words says:

    this one had such honorable feel…
    I like it…
    Thank you for sharing it…
    Take Care..
    )0(
    maryrose

  4. Avani says:

    Wonderful as always. Really glad to know you published your work in a book! All the best. 🙂

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