This Life of Mine
By M. F. B. Porter
What a beautiful thing it is, to have loved
a rose bloomed in the spring
the breeze carrying a dove
It’s what fuels the fire,
makes the clock tick,
it’s to what we aspire
What a shattering thing it is, to have lost
the single moment you can’t take anymore
the line you know you shouldn’t have crossed
It’s what snuffs out the flame,
makes the clock stop,
buries us in shame
What a difficult thing it is, to have rebuilt
a road always under construction,
an old dress turned into a patchwork quilt
It’s what lights the match,
makes the ticking resume,
that new thing our eyes catch.
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