I found this in the desk drawer—Forgotten, It is end sound repeats to the next line.
In the White Orchard:
Alone as the midnight-hours
towers above;
below-me.
Oh me,
alone in a white-orchard-
tortured by a memory.
Remember beautiful-eyes.
Lies fall silent on deaf-ears.
Fears, they say, adds to your-age.
Rage, they say, depletes the years,
Tears, they say, blind bright-eyes.
Ties you to thoughts mistaken.
Dying embers, cold-ashes
dashes hearts that are-aching
raking embers of cold dreams.
Ashes in the white-orchard
tortured by beautiful-eyes
lies alone in winter’s discord.
Beautiful-eyes, lies that fall on
deaf-ears, fears that are reflected in
your-age, rage blinds
bright-eyes, ties you down and
are-aching, raking in the
white-orchard, tortured.
cold-ashes, dashes our hearts that
by the memory of beautiful-eyes,
Lies.


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