The Mystery Poem by Julia Boon

The Mystery

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The mystery, you said, was our history.
You said it was dead;
The love that we had felt,
It had fled and bled away.
The hand we had been dealt,
Had caused us nothing but pain;
It had driven us insane.
Yet here we are, still here,
Still near.
Our love stronger than ever,
Pushing on forever.

Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: Love
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
The power of love...
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