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What Might Have Been

by Stephen Ellams

for Deborah

With the last kiss of summer
The dew drops
Like seed pearls
Absorbed by my left cheek
Stung by the cold air

Your name suits you well
Deborah, honey
Don’t despair
I’ll reserve a place for you
In my pressed-flower memoirs

Your pheromone queen scent
Still lingers
In the recall
Of a romantic complex suite
Mellifica I love you

Trapped in supersedure
Piping up
Yes, I hear you
Hum an old victory song
As misfortune defeats us

Delphic oracle of Storrs
High life
It seems we are bound
To never be fasted

Holding hands in the park
Time pulsates
Like a hived thought
A pure pagan prayer
To carry us onwards

Through the weathered oak arch
Etching bark
Tremble dancing
Past a lone standing stone
Where my conscience was readied

There I let you down
Bespoke a lie
That was noble
The Merovingian King
Who plied his sting to protect you

* * *

Run a comb through your wings
Return to Lapidoth now
With resplendent gold rings
Electrostatic allure
Mother of earthly things
As heaven’s bliss is denied us
May you find second lease
Inside this winter cluster life choice

* * *

Lament falling leaves
Yes, I sense your soul hurting
Mine shifts like the moon
Waxing, weeping and waning
Third disciple no more
Are you to be my fourth judge?
Or an altruistic love
I can build a new hive from?

Copyright © 2013 by Stephen Ellams

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