to Marcy Howard

This world, can bring you, many things, a mix, of good and bad,
For, there is, no perfect thing, all things, from happy, to sad,
Many of us, on this earth, search for, that perfect mate,
Hoping that, they come along, sooner, rather than late.
Suppose, you find, a special love, who slowly, has to die,
But in, the course, of her demise, an angel, catches your eye,
From, the ashes, of the first, a new love, comes to you,
Yet it seems, all, is lost, with me, split inside, the two.
One, has no choice, disease, takes her away,
While, the other, runs and hides, forever, is every day,
I hold, the two, in my heart, it’s the mind, that won’t believe,
That, one love, is dying, and the other, can not perceive.
Luck, is finding love twice, but what, if both are lost,
Does, that mean, bad luck’s, here, and it’s, doubled in cost,
Loss, will follow, along with pain, but must, it be for two,
Only one, is dying, while the other, kills me too.
Though, I have, pain and loss, I must remember, the things, I found,
That entered, into my life, with love, yet left, without a sound,
I’m already, used to tears, it seems, they are, my now,
While I accept, I love the two, but the question posed, is HOW,
                 Eileen, don’t go.Marcy, come home



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