Forever Missing You
The rusted gate swings in the August wind leading me through bitter sweet memories of a time when your voice was all I heard
Stumbling down a decaying stairway to reach a cobblestone path where an effigy perched high atop a marble pillar looks down upon one weeping rose where I take out my beaded rosery
and kneel down to cry
Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2023
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