Souvenirs

What of the ring that I had given you,
That Christmas Eve, beneath the pale moonlight,
And where was the heart that I thought was true,
So easily stole in the breathless night.
The roses I gave you, were just thrown away,
Trampled memories of another street.
All my dreams and hopes, are now made of clay,
Crushed and broken, beneath your lovers feet.
The ring I’d given, you gave back to me,
How cold and desolate I found that thing.
Where life without you would forever be,
A sad reflection of what love should bring.
Love is a game that has its souvenirs,
Winners laugh, but it sometimes ends in tears.

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