Blance, where were you...?
Blance, where were you when I was still alive?
come just to think of it, life was a game;
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
Black vanishing plummet, Oettinger strive
race on marginal speed is not to blame
Blance where were you when I was still alive?
Wolf-colder bite November frost to skive;
Vain was this agon for, distance to tame;
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
Breathless our life was at twenty-five,
live dangerous, on road, afore to aim,
Blance where were you when I was still alive?
Selected Nymph, one promise to derive;
She was a softer misty form, my dame;
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
Apotheotic nacreous form, swan dive;
November of anamnesis, became,
Blance where were you when I was still alive?
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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