Fruit of Loneliness

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Now for a little I have fed on loneliness
As on some strange fruit from a frost-touched vine—
Persimmon in its yellow comeliness,
Or pomegranate-juice color of wine,
The pucker-mouth crab apple, or late plum—
On fruit of loneliness have I been fed.
But now after short absence I am come
Back from felicity to the wine and bread.
For, being mortal, this luxurious heart
Would starve for you, my dear, I must admit,
If it were held another hour apart
From that food which alone can comfort it—
I am come home to you, for at the end
I find I cannot live without you, friend.

May Sarton

 

to Abandon the Luxury

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Looking well within the glass…my motives have not become clear.  My thoughts languishing in all the abstract.  Scents often replaced with sense.  

Reaching down to the bottom of a forbidden well.  I cannot abhor the green and their backs.  My thoughts have for the moment been more prudent…less abstract.

No matter the abandoned luxury…I find myself leering at the mechanical trinkets that detract.

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