8 Years

8 Years

 

For 8 years

The door had been locked;

There was no way in,

And the distance too great, yet

Here I was.

 

She was standing there

Turned and distant,

The scent of wild bluebells

A punishment in the air.

 

Closing my eyes

I floated through a dappled copse,

And in a sea of purple

 

We kissed. And cried. And laughed.

But when I looked again,

 

She had gone.  

 

Jeremy Barron

 

 

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