I write with a hand you once held how I love to recall,
I look into a mirror where once we saw ourselves reflected,
Now my hands shake and the mirror lies.
I walk alone along the seashore where once we did together,
Our belief in our innocence we were safe in the bosom of our land,
Now I know that we were fooled.
Now my legs ache and I tire easily so I walk home alone,
I sit in my old armchair though it is now threadbare with age,
I gaze through a closed window.
I have cried more tears that can be counted, for you, for me,
They fall silently for there is no one to hear my cries,
And our portrait still hangs on my crumbling wall.
Copyright © Julie Achilles | Year Posted 2019