I went down the blithe red stair
the sunlight in my
golden hair, my arm
within my boyfriend, free,
blithe was the day
of my misery

I never saw him again
and many years were robbed
he never woke to the
sun the next day
and the travelling of my
was a heavy weight -
nothing was the same again

I was never fair
and my hair is thin
the sun is fitful
when it looks in on me
all is too late

to say it was well or ill, to
undo speech and act, any harm,
all would be different
if we could say
words of warm
and love, all feeling there
as there should be
between me and him

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