a poem by ROY Douglas KNEALE, UK

It was here two souls embraced,
Long ere was changed Earth’s mortal clime,
Unknown to an uncaring world were we:
How pulses raced,
How swift flew time,
Youth’s innocence; devoid of subtlety.

Here today no hint remains
That erst this was our special place:
Year after year the seasons plague this spot.
On hedge-rowed lanes
Of us no trace,
Nor clue how feckless chance defined our lot.

Nonetheless, both Oak and Elm,
Conversing, through soft breezes blown,
May well relate, perchance to Butterflies,
“In this green realm
Love’s seed was sown,
Bequeathing a bouquet that never dies.”

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