Secret lovers
John Clare Stokes
When an old love dies
we don’t send flowers
we don’t attend visitation
we mourn in silence
among the hidden letters
after the grass has grown
the marble marker placed
we visit the lover
glance about lest some say
why lingered he there today.
This is the type post that gets no interest. Melissa was the only one to like it when i placed in Poetry of Image.
I may post it to my main page just
to see.
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