“Lori,” I
said, “Don’t move!
I’m still
worshiping your face.”
She passed
almost 20 years ago,
No one since
could take her place.
The “Snow
Fire” was my favorite rose,
Until it
succumbed to a disease…
First the
blossoms withered,
Then
eventually the leaves.
Then there
were the special dogs,
My
companions and best friends…
Who one by
one grew old and died,
The cycle
never ends.
Everyday
I’ve gathered thoughts,
Those
memories like favorite books.
A person
can’t own anything,
Including
their good looks.
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