In the jewellery box,
The locket he gave her
Lies tarnished.
Old photos gather dust
On the top of the wardrobe
Pushed right to the back.
She turns off the radio
Every time their song comes on;
She takes a different route to work
To avoid passing his house.
But sometimes…
She wears the locket,
Looks at the photo’s,
Plays the song,
Drives past his house
And dreams what might have been
Heartfelt write you have expressed in this piece, thank you for sharing...may peace and joy fill your each and everyday... Scott
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely piece of nostalgia.... I have a box.... I'm sure most people do.