I would find his clothes
scattered on the floor, sometimes
perched on a chair or dresser
like a skylark, singing
of its nervous Spring love,
and I thought of Billy and
his blithe spirit and how
he always was fielding my love
like it was a softball, popped
easily into the outfield
but carelessly dropped,
so that runs and runs and runs
scored against me
while, artfully, he laughed.
Reblogged this on Let it come from the heart and commented:
This poem creates a wonderful picture of a dear loved one.
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Why thank you Laura š
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thank you
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