Old letters
Faded photographs
One last glance
Of every bit
Every piece
Of you
Filed neatly
In one nice box
To be put away
In one small corner
Where I could see
Everyday
As if seeing you still
As if feeling your eyes
Watching me
Waiting for me
As I get home each day
Like waiting for you
To get home to me too
Now a memory
Of all memories
To stay
In the corner of my mind
I would only have
To close my eyes
To see you there
The old letters
The faded photographs
Of you
Of the love that was there
And is still here
In the heart of me
And in the hearts
Of our children
And grandchildren
I guess somethings simply have a certain timelessness about them... like picking up an old book from a hundred years past, and finding a dried flower pressed amongst the pages... and somehow in some mystical fashion knowing something of the prior owner. I found your poem not only wonderful in scope and depth, but haunting and beautiful.
had to read it a few times to enjoy it. Its a good poem and everyone has a style but the way your lines breaks up these sentences trows me off. If its your style dont let me discourage you but my suggestion is to have lines that reflect how you would like the poem to sound like within a breath. dont get me wrong, its a good poem, its just the way the lines are displayed to me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
beautiful. very worthwhile read. seems so realistic, as if i'm watching you grieve rather than reading your poem. i like the shortened lines, it makes the words seem so much more important, as if you are struggling to get them out because they need to be said, but they still hurt. has hope weaved into it and little golden pieces of nostalgia. i really liked it.