Bier de Stone ( wrote,
Bier de Stone

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Ode to A.E.B.

A small crescent moon, thin and sharp
Takes me to trist with death near and far
My hair, black as night, escapes none too quick
Bit by bit the hair dresser clips

My mind becomes jelly on the 13 of July
It was 2005, 20 plus years in blight
Every day of my life, her face upon strangers
Then on this date, a time warp brings her

Dr. Zhivago made strides where I curled up dead
My own cursed spite blinds me, as when I misled
Now nothing can change me, inflicted, deprived
Yet my lasting impression praises that you survived

And just as `twas then, I weep for you now
or the good natured spirit who brightened my heart
If it`s true you exist, then my cheer has no frown
Until next we meet, my image of you will not cease to depart.
Tags: poem
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