I still love my Catherine dearly.
Her beauty unsurpassed.
Long golden hair and pale blue eyes.
I still think of her like that.
But that was four decades ago.
The time has just elapsed.
But time stands still in the memory.
Just like a photograph.
We were to marry one March day.
But circumstances took me away.
When I returned from foreign climes.
Life had moved on with the times.
I never saw her ever again.
Odd letters I did get.
She was swallowed up in city life.
And I often have regrets.
Has she grown old gracefully.
Or in youthful beauty died.
Many times I've thought of her.
And many times I've cried.
But in my mind's eye clearly.
Running swiftly down the hill.
A vision of loveliness.
Within my memory still.
Keith Wilson. Windermere. UK. 2016.
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 10:26 AM UTC
I still love my Catherine dearly.
Her beauty unsurpassed.
Long golden hair and pale blue eyes.
I still think of her like that.
But that was four decades ago.
The time has just elapsed.
But time stands still in the memory.
Just like a photograph.
We were to marry one March day.
But circumstances took me away.
When I returned from foreign climes.
Life had moved on with the times.
I never saw her ever again.
Odd letters I did get.
She was swallowed up in city life.
And I often have regrets.
Has she grown old gracefully.
Or in youthful beauty died.
Many times I've thought of her.
And many times I've cried.
But in my mind's eye clearly.
Running swiftly down the hill.
A vision of loveliness.
Within my memory still.
Keith Wilson. Windermere. UK. 2016.
