The Fear.
Walking in the park
Was bleak
We...
Scarcely speaking
Took long sorry paths
Under gallows of trees.
The briar
Had left scars
And denial
That the spearhead of fate
Had dealt us a blow
Fingering your ring
You were mute.
Just the sprinkler splashed on.
The spray from the fountain
Fell onto your face
Running like tears down your cheeks
Small rivers
Trace over your skin
Almost godly Heroic and Greek
From the ages
I remembered
The candles you’d lit
Before this
Then you disappeared
I have not forgotten
The fear
That danced
Within me.
From that.
Kristine Byrne..Feb. 24th 2014
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