A date, an anniversary, a marker of time
Etched on my soul, in the depths of my heart
Gently slipping out, of the costume of love
The brush strokes fading, on our work of art
shiny pebbles
Writing myself present…
A date, an anniversary, a marker of time
Etched on my soul, in the depths of my heart
Gently slipping out, of the costume of love
The brush strokes fading, on our work of art
shiny pebbles 
Meighan Klugman sent my mum, Gwen, a copy of this poem and she sent it to me…it’s thoughtful, and sounds as if you are feeling down. Hope life takes a turn for the better soon.
Hi Robyn, thank you for your comment. It was an anniversary of a wonderful day, now somewhat tainted… Life is great; for everything a reason. x