She told him with her last breath
That she would always be his
When she parted in death
And he cried don't go - please
But that didn't mean a thing
When she left that day
And his love he would always bring
He sits thinking she should have stayed
Now each minute is like a day
As he wanders along the path
Feeling like he would slowly waste away
All he thinks about is seeing her at last.
© Paul Warren Poetry
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