The smile on your face
Melancholy;
Like a dust cloud on the horizon.
A shimmering haze
Or the veil of death
To cover the parting
Ways, or a breath
Of fiery passion turned to mist
By the icy touch of fact.
Or a cloud to mark
For a while the trail
Of a caravan looking for the holy grail;
Like a foot-print on wet sands of time,
Or a curtain rung down on the act.
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