Intentions Intentions
Can I get a cadence in my brain,
a rhythm for my song?
Inspiration smolders low,
enough to stir emotion's heart,
but burns not bright enough to show
the words evoked by painful love.

Love for whom, I dare not say,
too bad that I should know;
a tempo swirls around my feet-
a sobbing moan's eternal lurch-
the meter fades beneath the beat
until I cannot make it out.

I rest assured, the words will come,
not easy, though, to keep;
yet still my song will grow anew
perhaps to other measured tones,
a different tune than that I knew,
but still a gentle requiem.

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