To Yvette
The closest he ever came to Yvette
Was only very faraway
Her voice sang in his soul like ecstasy
With notes both hard to read and a joy to hear
Scenes frozen in time like a vignette
Staged, arranged by invisible hands
They waved from the wings fingers crossed
And the way she held their fairy wands
Slivers of light of fires and frost
What he found at last was how to forget
The closest he ever came to Yvette
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2024-02-16 at 01:05
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