GRIEF

March 16, 2017


She wore a black scarf and a held withered rose
Clutched tight to her chest right under her nose
The tears quietly trickled down the bumps on her cheek
“May we meet again,” she croaks out to speak

The memories flood back I can see her head spinning
It starts way back when, all the way at the beginning.
They were madly in love – that I do know
Laughing and smiling but that was a long time ago

Now she stands looking at him rest peacefully
And so the tears pick up speed rolling ceaselessly






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