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Nov 2016
Dear, I fear the end is near,
and I can't seem to recall.
Can you remind me how
we came to be, and
what will come when we
are done?

Dear, I fear I lost my name,
somewhere along the way.
and in my pocket, lies a
picture of a woman I don't know.
Of a scene from a play
that feels so far away.

Dear, I fear the world is fading,
from my memory, but I still
hear the sound of laughter
floating through the trees,
like a whisper to the wind.

Dear, I fear I'm not myself,
and to that, I'm sorry to have
let you down. I know that
I loved you once, when
I knew who you were.
Written by
Christopher Ross Howie  North Carolina
(North Carolina)   
285
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