Never Dies!

why does thy name sound like weeping?
do stars disappear after they fall?
your face goes quickly from autumn,
you stagger beneath imagined snow!
wings never write letters or drink toasts,
nails have no will of their own.
leaving the faucet to drip in memory,
of a thousand could have beens.
what we call love knows not the grave,
what we call desire never dies!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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