as you walked by, flowers in hand
and the book....
brushing the leaves from the stone...
her name engraved upon it
the saddness still there as you...
placed the flowers on her grave
you'd sit cross legged on the grass reading to her
a calming story that she read to
the children when they were afraid
protecting her even now, loving
her even more....
everyday rain or shine you'd come...
sharing part of your life to
entwine with hers....
I thought perhaps they would end
the visits....
you never missed a day...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem