I look for you, and you're not there.
Your words that flowed like fresh water,
cool, crisp, refreshing...absent;
only a trickle of memory
seeps through the rocks.
The laughter's gone.
The creek bed dry.
Just a single tear...
running down my cheek.
Mar 8, 2011
Mar 8, 2011 at 5:28 PM UTC
I look for you, and you're not there.
Your words that flowed like fresh water,
cool, crisp, refreshing...absent;
only a trickle of memory
seeps through the rocks.
The laughter's gone.
The creek bed dry.
Just a single tear...
running down my cheek.
revised 4/20/13