Breathing For Her
I am not thinking of her today.
She is dead, and I can’t think of the bones
somewhere at the edge England
or at the edge of a field
bulldozed by time.
Love keeps me alert though,
love of many people
known and unknown.
I do talk to her life
when not thinking of her
with this constant breathing I practice.
Many desire the unattainable,
but untimely death steals even that away.
I hope she once was a mirror of God
and I am not still following
a shattered image.
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