Lost poem
An old familiar song
A tarnish silver cup
Filed with old wine
An old pavilion
The place where people of
Not to long ago.
Held each other close.
While dancing in a circle.
Its warped and paint flaked boards.
Distract from what it once was.
The memorial live within those who love.
will the butterflys return showing.
Their color of clamor.
These memories kept behind a lost page.
In my writing book
poem by Howard Johnson
Added by Poetry Lover
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