All That's Left Poem by Lycia Harding

All That's Left



An image in a locket...
Your face encased in gold
cold on my breast, is all that's left.
But how is one to hold
an image in a locket?

Lycia Harding
Sunday, May 29, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: gold,image,memory
poem poems cold
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Poems By Lycia Harding
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