a falling tear
Fifty years I see it clear a face gone pale a falling tear a silent stare as she began the cutting words that choked like sand our breath was taken our hearts were stone my eyes were fixed on a tear alone before it hit the wooden floor the world beyond our first grade door had changed from one of children's dreams from castles, songs, woods and streams to a good man unsure of what to say of the world we would have the following day he removed his glasses and trembling...he said; "The President has died" Camelot is dead
Rhyming
Reminiscence
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Deckard
I began writing poetry when I was a teenager and it truly saved me from a destructive path. 'Time Heals' will be on my grave stone'. I have 3 incredible kids who are the greatest gifts that God has given me. If I have advice to give to aspiring...
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