Eric Linden

Blue Angel

Is this the end – fresh flowers in a vase,
a gloom filled room of tarnished memories?
Is that her soul that’s carried with the breeze
of fragrant lilac, lingering for days?
An open window and a bluish haze,
like artists brush strokes forming eulogies
on famous paintings hung in galleries,
mean love is gone – a sun without its rays.

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