as though to tighten the noose of love lost
in this attempt to disregard the past
the photograph turns with each step into this haven
and her face, a child of heaven
smiles the joy of youth
not really appreciating the truth
that blights the very air, always washed so clean
she and I breath in the daily scene
as the ups and downs pass in said lives
cut into different patterns by knives
of cold words or distant chimes
sometimes innocuous, occasionally rhymes
but always cut deep
habitually cheap
and the infant glow
turns into ice with the winter snow
while the noose becomes more taut
because of all the happiness she has brought
©2008 Hey Hey
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