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New Love

25 Nov

She kept her phone in hand
Waiting for the call or the message
That never could come
Yet she enjoyed that feeling
Of being a teenager again

The thrill of being wanted,
Of being loved, a fire burning
A warmth that keeps one awake
That awakens the spirit
Making the child in you dance

It burns less often now
Buried within the rubles
Of everyday chores and chaos
Yet it surfaces, and lingers
Like sweet scented perfume

Just for a moment, yet long enough
To keep the fire burning
Stir the desire embers
Relight the hope of a love
Yet to come yet too far away

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Posted by on November 25, 2015 in poem, Uncategorized

 

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