Once More

To hold you dear this second night
Is like a pillar caste in salt
That looks with whited eye upon the past
And sees, in flames, a thousand faults:
A host of fears and trembling joys
In passion wrought, in guilt beguiled,
Yet tempered here upon this pyre.

Purer now within my sight,
I hold you dear this second night.

Copyright 2002 j. bennett carnahan, jr.

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This entry was posted in Poetry.

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