Monday Muse: The Gift


                                                                                                                                       Diego Hernandez

I watched the first time,
I was a gift,
you, awkwardly sublime,
she, adrift.

Consigned to glass,
I saw the second,
shyness does pass,
with kisses she beckoned.

I am old,
trapped between pages of a book,
my story told,
but she still steals a look.

Her fresh tears stain,
he is gone,
while I have lain,
a memory of dawn.

She does not regret the path she chose,
living within the lifetime of a rose.

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