Poetry: York

The chill breeze of
May at the beach
was scarcely warmed
by the dull gray sun.

How your hair danced
jovially around your face!
How sweet was your kiss
as we embraced at York.

The beach is barren
in April on my page
memories bring back
the love that raged.

No more do voice sing
within our hearts at York
and a page of scribbled
lines change the memory.


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