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Pictures fall from silver screens

Like petals from my heart

Images I cannot hold

More precious now

Than day’s first light

Whose frost-kiss chills my cheek

Lost effigies of futures which

Will never rise

And warm a distant heart,

I hold them in my hands

Like tiny creatures

Sacred, fragile, pure

Whose naked trust slips between my fingers

To melt upon the ground

And disappear to reverie,

Phantoms whose expressions sweet

Conspire within my dreams

Make mockery of wakeful time

A fantasy to feed,

And as like flakes of snow they fall

I catch them in my heart

And clasp each one with loving hands

These pictures that I hold.