this day every year
we light candles for every loss
rows and rows of bright shining memories
but there are empty patches in the rows
memories long since forgotten
the resting places of the ones no longer missed
the day will come for me
for all of us
when there are no candles lit for us
and we are nothing but faded memories
empty spaces in the rows of light
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Fragments of my mind
PoesíaA little bit of me. A little bit of my life. A little piece of my searching soul. Poetry
