do I miss her laughing voice
yes
my heart cries out
straining to hear her call in the silence
do I miss the rose petal scent of her softness
yes
each breath aching to know her once more
do I miss the way she tossed her hair
her playful smile that said
I’m beautiful
do I miss her reaching out
to take my hand
to dance with me
in blissful oneness
yes
always
with every heartbeat
but most of all
I miss her
whispering
as her lips touched mine
mio
tio stib
You might also enjoy: The Memory of a Single Rose; My Dementia Diary
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“straining to hear her call,” the tyranny of personal loss so well described!
Yes, thank you.
So beautifully written.
Thank you.