It sits in the corner of my bedroom,
On a table that is hidden from view
By the open bathroom door. It is the
Picture of Eric and me at the senior
Homecoming dance. It is surrounded by
A silver frame, one that at times catches
The light from the window and sends out a
Beacon. Like a lighthouse, it leads me to
The shore of the table where I reach out
And hold the past in my hands. He looks so
Handsome in his tuxedo. His blue-green
Eyes gleam from behind the lenses of his
Glasses. He clings to me, his arms around
Me, as if he will never let me go.
Wisps of brown surround my face, and my
Azure dress flows to the floor. If I
Focus hard enough I can almost smell
The calla lilies that I grasp in my
Hands. I did not realize at the time
That this would become the first, and only,
Picture of the three of us together.
Still clutching the picture in my hands I
Shed a tear, for you, my clinging ghost from
The past. I place the frame back in it’s place
On the table in the corner. I hope
To always remember, yet pray to one
day forget, why his eyes will never gleam
As bright, and why I will never again
Smell the calla lilies sweet aroma.
2007-01-22
16:48:55
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8 answers
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asked by
ThaLuvBug
2
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Other - Arts & Humanities