To This I Think I’ll Wonder.

It was reminiscent of a past unremembered,

Like dreaming a life never led,

A feeling of enchantment,

Better left to the dead.

It was a movement in the ground,

Like a wave of discontent,

A momentary quiver,

Not sure what that meant.

It was sickening in its rapture,

Like hope hugging stars,

Funny thing with raptures,

They still leave bitter scars.

 

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