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Time diminishes what we require.
What pain teaches, we learn perfectly.
Each builds a shore around his sea of gladness,
Not losing hope, nor giving way to madness,
Tougher without, within a little shyer,
Yearning always, but settling reasonably.
Often, though, we turn to lovely sadness,
Not willing to let go what we desire,
Even though we want what cannot be.
All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems
permission to use
provided by the author. |
