I was not sure what to call this poem so after you get done reading it and thinking about it I would love to hear not only yours thoughts on it but also any ideas you have for a good title.
Stone lips that can not cry
or speak of sorrow witnessed.
An angel–a guardian
,with a dozen roses at her feet,
named–just another fleeting life.
All around the willows weep.
My tears, in cold ground, seep.
My love still reaches,
my kiss channeled through that stone.
I love you even though I’m now alone.
Torn heart, that will not heal
or dance for love living.
A gasp– a chasm
,with things left unsaid on my tongue,
broken–just another life.
All throughout me memories burn.
Heart shattered, I yearn.
My love still etches
not on stone– on soul.
I love you even when I am left alone.
-Wishing you the brightest of days,Eva
” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”