In the glass-walled
conservatory
within
the garden
where we
used to meet
when our young
and oh so innocent hearts
were pounding
in anticipation
and our fingers
trembled
as they touched
the white curtains
and the linen
within
are slowly
yellowing with age
just as our hearts
and our memories
yellow and fade
within
with the passing
of the many, too many
parted years.
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