Rainy Gray Friday
On a rainy gray Friday
I sat and thought of you;
thought of prices paid
just for your company;
thought of lonely days,
silent days, lengthened days,
with no sight or sound of you.
It’s not the past I fear,
but the future I dread.
A future with no certainty
except of pain and longing,
never satisfied, eased only
for moments, reappearing
stronger for the respite.
Submitted Aug 30, 2016
Copyright © Beverly Read | Year Posted 2016
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