When Her Picture Fell
Her picture fell behind the stage
where life and memories pretended a grave
An open casket as I saw her eyes
for long ago I bitterly cried
Under the lamp, the pictures sun
near the clock that mornings rung
by the things I use everyday
and things rarely touched
but there they stayed
The table where I made her stage
an open casket her only grave
Less than ashes yet more than death
into my heart to the deepest depth
Her picture fell behind the stage
and gone it was for many days
Forgotten, her presence
out of sight out of mind
gone she was an uncertian time
Latter it was when what was lost
was found
And what was missing was the missing
it didn't make a sound
The loss was lost
after all of this time
I buried her picture with
belongings of mine
The love that I give her
will never run out
but time had come to close the spout
I know of her
I'll never write again
but for old time sake
I'll speek her name
April my April
I miss you still and always
Copyright © John Loving Iii | Year Posted 2018
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