This memory too shall pass
like drops of April rain
The one that agonizes my world
and on my soul it reigns
So then what will it be?
If not a reminiscence
Will it be a passing thought
Or just that shallow fragrance?
This story too shall remain untold
And scattered in pieces of a glass
Or will it be remembered in aches,
In the whole, or in the parts?
O then what will become of it?
If it didn’t become worth a tale
Will it just be that tiny feather
That’s brushed away by the gale?
This longing too shall transform
Into a smile unfeigned
Or be a memory that will pass
Like drops of April rain.
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