Once again I find myself alone.
No great sorrow, not a tear shown.
The only loss is that of love.
Carry on without the flight of the Dove.
Longing for my art to love me back.
Those impressions of myself show only what I lack.
I guess I'll continue rambling on through time.
Nothing much to offer, just a simple rhyme.

Words Copyright © 1978 J.L. Hunter

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