i remember …
walking to your gray-stone house
on the crust of snow in March, when the
air was still and soft, reminiscent of pearl,
it was a night of smoked glass that felt like a dream ~
it might have been

the whispers of love…
the sweetest of songs, sung into the ether
while your warm spirit hung on bare trees,
a rose bud expecting summer
awakening to find itself chilled
at dawn in midwinter

the rhythm …
of my heart sundered our paths
i set you free, i followed my joy
down a  yellow brick road, looking back
sometimes, but no regrets after all for the
hills and valleys of my solitary adventure

© 2018, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; Photo courtesy of MorgueFile


  1. You speak of an experience that all, who allow themselves to love and to follow dreams, experience. Sometimes I do feel regret, but not the kind saturated with grief. Maybe it is the regret that I had to give up something for something else even though I know I made the right choice. It would be fun to lead several lives.

    Liked by 1 person

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