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it was a Sunday afternoon when I walked across the park there were already a dozen people gathered at the house across                                                                                   throughout the years, this park has seen my many roles a lover, at age 16                  gently caressing the hair of the boy I adored a wife, at age 26                  exchanging vows with the man I loved a mother, at age 36                  kissing the spot where my son had scratched himself                                                                                                                                     it was a Sunday afternoon                                                                                                           when Death took away the love of my life                                                                                                        with his fleeting cloak and gleaming scythe he was the love of my life    when he was putting on my wedding ring         or when he was cradling Jim             and even when he walked out on our suburban dream he had always been the love of my life    and here I was at age 46 in the park the first time of my life when our roles had differed      I, the widow      and he, the dead man                                                                                                                                     it was a Sunday afternoon                                                                                              and it was one of the quietest Sundays I ever had.
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Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 10:41 AM UTC
Sunday Afternoon
it was a Sunday afternoon when I walked across the park there were already a dozen people gathered at the house across                                                                                   throughout the years, this park has seen my many roles a lover, at age 16                  gently caressing the hair of the boy I adored a wife, at age 26                  exchanging vows with the man I loved a mother, at age 36                  kissing the spot where my son had scratched himself                                                                                                                                     it was a Sunday afternoon                                                                                                           when Death took away the love of my life                                                                                                        with his fleeting cloak and gleaming scythe he was the love of my life    when he was putting on my wedding ring         or when he was cradling Jim             and even when he walked out on our suburban dream he had always been the love of my life    and here I was at age 46 in the park the first time of my life when our roles had differed      I, the widow      and he, the dead man                                                                                                                                     it was a Sunday afternoon                                                                                              and it was one of the quietest Sundays I ever had.
assylem
Written by
Malaysian
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 10:41 AM UTC
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