Memories From the Piazza.
Sweet titters hang as she dances
Spinning and prancing down the stairs
Puddled footprints where she danced
In avarice as she eyes her dripping path
As mother grips her hand ever tighter
Awash with sadness I felt the protection
And how I have none from you
You burned white hot across my soul
Leaving a soft ash that slowly petrified
And as I watched mother and daughter
I could feel your fingers slipping away
Catching your glance as you walked away
I hoped there would be a lone tear for me
Yet finding only a hint of regret.
Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2007
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