I remember a day--
	So long ago now--
	When a hand
	Slipped into mine,
	And the world
	Seemed
	Wonderful and warm.
	Now I grow older,
	The hand in mine
	Just a memory;
	I am empty
	And alone.
	Was what was done
	The only way
	My Universe could unfold?
	Was it Fate
	And only this,
	Which cast our lives apart?
	Could I have been
	Stronger, holding
	Longer to the love
	We shared?
	These questions,
	Like my hand,
	Are empty,
	Answerless, silent.
	Who will tell me
	What it was
	For which I fought
	And lost?
	Who will bind up
	My broken heart?

1/14/80

© Fred O'Bryant. All rights reserved.

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