Gone, Yet In My Arms - Poem by Brooke Audino
Her soft golden hair
It stung me as it hit my face
But I did not care
We were done with the race
My little girl was back in my grasp
her sweet skin caressed my cheek
Gone from my life, but back at last
Little girl, she was so meek.
If you could be with my now
I would be filled with glee
But you were grossly murdered like a cow
Now you shall never be...
Comments about Gone, Yet In My Arms by Brooke Audino
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You