The Desk

Pictures of you lay on my desk,
since you left the nest.

The fight had been fought, along with
all the pain it brought.

Your smile was bright, as you looked
down at me, it appeared tight.

I remember when you were great, then
you grew at a surprising rate.

I knew that it was kismet,
I couldn't go against it.

As soon as you departed,
I became cold-hearted.

My desk holds letters, a ruined rifle, a past
promise that should, and a soldier of wood.

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