Our real selves we came to see,
In our plight could not be free,
Hemmed in by circumstance,
Not given a real chance,
A chance deserved but not to be.
Love pure at first, strains to survive,
Unless tended fails to thrive,
A place from Heaven, meant to last,
Should not have been allowed to pass,
So readily, and by neglect.
A little tending of the field,
Would surely multiply the yield.
And it still could, the field still waits,
It waits to grow another day.
Nurtured by sun, rain, and love.
Shaun Dugan, June, 1999
Reason for writing:
Please feel free to email me if you get anything from this poem.
A break up of a cherished relationship that was trying to survive 350 miles distance and only seeing each other a couple of days a month. I feel curiously compelled to write stuff at this time. SD
Birth sign: Aquarius
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