Thinly woven strands of twine
Around the branch which age benign
Has treated memories long of time
With sorted width and common sign
Listless days now turn each hour
Embittered taste like apple sour
Amidst this empty space I scour
At all the naught still yet to flower
Her life in mine seemed greater still
As rain cascades the window sill
On my deserved day that seems to will
My every thought on her; I mill
Heavy-eyed in wretchedness
Derisive dust, contemptuous
Beneath my heels the swollenness
Of all the her there is to miss
To thinly woven strands of twine
Your branches hate as they malign
And draw away my dancing eye
Grim, this day, that was once mine
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