to what ends and why?
your place in the heart of things,
and only a hole there now.
just a couple of flowers and a rock, that's it.
spring and mud outside on the steps.
the sun through dirty glass.
an amplifier never plugged in.
only a broken string but so much left to play.
like your promises, that were just a few,
and all of them broken.
but one... spoken so true,
and never thought of again.
sven.
(unkown title and date, approx. 4x6', stephen)
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