Girl
I remember the warmth of your love in a cold house;
The April wind rattling the sash windows;
The street dogs yelping.
We seldom linked our fingers, cuddled or kissed;
For hours we lay together writing songs,
Their words long since forgotten.
One night we made a wedding ring from knotted thread;
But the plaintive wail of passing trains
Told of unplanned journeys.
Girl
This poem is an intimate letter
Posted into the dark.
I hope you find it.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
April 11th. - 12th. 2014.
Written on the forty eighth anniversary of the events recalled.
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