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Skipping Stones I remember when we walked to the river that day, holding hands, we stood on the bank as time slipped away. Wild flowers stood like vestals between white river stones; just right for skipping at sunset when wind moans. The hurried sky looked down and beyond, then you were gone without scent or sign. You vanished as I knew you must, but I stand here still, without consent or design, Remembering… |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark D. Kilburn On Date: 2009-04-27 10:12:40
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
I am looking for my fav poem by you and am having trouble finding it but I will. This was probably my 2nd fav. This is really good! I am guessing it is about your husband but maybe not. I really like it regardless. I just read My Muse, That was exceptional!!! mk