Summer breeze through trees of green, seen in between the morning and night, light through open window, curtains blowing in the silence of day, no way to say the beauty of moments absent the one I’ll miss the most, host a banquet to think it away as if loss never occurred and hours of tears ever pondering when thoughts of future days gives way to sorrow still, not yet gone but fearing the hour when loss will become my everyday life.
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Jason Whitaker 