Prose in the eye of the beholder:
Poems in the eyes of one's fingers... yes?
In ongoing challenge to write love poems without the word love in them -- here is one:
by Pat Darnell
my sweetest remembers
violins please
I think of you my dear
and I cannot breathe
as we walked in a park
near our house once
I go into
an arched tunnel
under memory lane
I know, it's not our lane
not our park
I know I have to stop waiting
our bond is ...well...
Never ends
We are always together
if we are all alone.
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