Mother Valentine

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Mother Valentine
That never would
Be mine I fell
Again into the well
Of you with wishing
Things of old had told
A different story
Dried up hell
That never gave
Away no water
For a daughter
Mother made
To slaughter
Watched me thirst
She only cursed
And could not bless
The rest is history
Of wishing wells
That lived to tell
The tales that have no
Whys or wherefore
That can recompense
The Lenten price
I daily pay for you
Cast in my coin
Of wasted soul
To disappear into
The hole with no delivery
Of hope from you

©K Barr

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