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Poems If you are a coward like most people and you are afraid to cry...don't look in this journal.


II December Rain II
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Our Love
Loves memory has traced our outline in this place.
But will the spider remember, or the sun?
Did the water capture our faces in permanence?
Does the wind create us anew as it blows?
Did the shadows from the trees record our passage beneath them?
Our secret been revealed.
Yet I have told no other.
I write these words in silence, in mute testimony
To what once was.
But our image remains alive in this place.
It can not be removed.
You, me,
We then,
Were here.
We saw the day and hoped for tomorrow.
We caught a brief glimpse of love's promise.
We were not liars,
But thieves of time.
For now time has now forgotten us,
Yet our memory lingers, and love remembers
This place that was ours.




 
 
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