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written by: Richard Prime


When my only light's fluorescence,
And the night has spread her wings,
My mind recalls those happier times
Of fond, remembered things.
Later, in the evening, in my bed
Where I repose;
Those tender moments, close forgotten,
I miss the most.

When my candle lighted crescent
Echoes off the wall,
To set the shadows dancing,
They jump and leap and fall.
When I wet my dowsing finger,
And quench that flickering ghost;
Those tender moments, close forgotten,
I miss the most.

When my lonely night's incessant
Haunting presence nears,
I sit and ponder everything that passed.
Through the years you were beside me,
Though you're still here, I suppose;
Those tender moments, close forgotten,
Are the times I miss the most.

Richard Prime

Richard Prime

I have been a writer for some years, independently published poetry and short stories including the genres: children's fiction, action, romance, paranormal, history and fantasy. Following discharge from the RAF, I trained as a computer programmer and spent the rest of my career in computer software development and engineering, until retiring due to ill-health.
Richard Prime

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