missing love

let me tell you a story
of a boy and girl who knew
in digital frames and sweet
shots. that love was the cool dew
on morning glories, on fresh
papers, towards the sun’s ash.

capitalised the summer
of years gone by, gone toward
byes and hellos, sweet mother –
buckled knees they set to ward
the wounds of old, but forgot
the sweet pain the new begot.

when you see only what’s there
and not what’s before, into
hearts not made of shining, heir
to history, love in due

the human touch has lost its
touch – perhaps in time we’ll see

the love that was meant to be.

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