The Living Poetry prompt – bench, rain
Continents apart day after day, “When you come back, I’ll be here.” I remember you said.
I am standing here foolishly holding onto a distant promise soaked in the winter rain.
The bench is painted red.
Is it a sign for good luck or just man made passion to hide the worn-out memory?
We need to be sure there is nothing left to say, to explain, to retain.
Pain, I finally ready to let go.
It shivers out of my heart into the cold.
Love it. . .
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Thank you for loving it.
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Haha
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Heartbreakingly beautiful. Well done Poet.
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☺
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Wowww…love this❣
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Thank you for reading and commenting.
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