The Practice

I'm not thinking of her today.
Not mind-walking
somewhere at the edge England
or at the side of a field now bulldozed by time.

When not thinking of her I do converse with her
with this constant breathing I practice.

Many desire the unattainable,
but untimely death steals even that away.

My ghost holds its breath beneath the earth
far longer than it should.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2023

Poem

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Ferdous Avatar
May 31, 2023 at 7:31 AM
I had a little write up for you. https://www.poetrysoup.com/member_area/articles/article_edit.aspx?ID=4774
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