Many Moons have graced
the sky without your essence.
It has created an empty space,
a wound deep within my heart.
Each night I crave your presence;
one more tear falls from my eyes.
The rose left beside our bed has died;
your beautiful face keeps trying to
fade from my mind each sullen day.
I pressed the rose in my special book
of unfinished poems; and though dry,
shattered and breaking into pieces,
it’s still holds the beauty of our love,
but I fear time is breaking me as well.
So by the light of a Spring’s full moon,
I treasure your memory in a rose petal.
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