I Once Heard her Say - (Ruff Practice Poetry class)

Who knows the freshness of lovers decay
Who more than a widow listening each day,for
the footsteps of a haunting heart,
nursing memories with illusions of time long gone.
Who knows the freshness of lovers decay
Who more than a weeping womb aching for
a fetus too soon discarded;
regrets unfold into compromises
that fail to heal, fail to ease the faint murmur of fetus dieing.
Who knows the freshness of lovers decay
Who more than You or I