I found your words resting on a page
written in that slim stylish hand,
the book, a gift I think?
Not significant to utter or to make worthy of print
I studied them closely,
I loved you as the sun glints its rippling
shadows as they spill across my bedroom wall and
I loved that you thought to write your daily notes
for me to read again during these Summer days.
I wanted to talk to you,
pulling at the grass of your resting place did not
satisfy… tidying the petals away did not sate my need.
Did not gratify…
Endless is this dark road between us
I long to hear your voice!
Still as the sun glints these rippling shadows as they spill across my
bedroom wall – I drink comfort from your written words…
Do you know it’s Summer? Do you know it’s Summer…
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