Whatever became
of the girl I once loved,
who once loved me?
I sleepwalked
on a path of dreams
as her eyes carelled
my loneliness.
Then she glanced away.

Whatever became
of the bud
that never blossomed
when she followed the wind-song
of the western mountains,
Pacific surf lit
by the last light of day?

Whatever became
of a love that now
only whispers
in tree leaves
on breeze stirred
summer days?

Vince Larkin


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