She walked with grace akin to a glide. We locked eyes. Two friends joined at the hip not a word need pass our lips, Thus we both cried.
By Richard Willis4 years ago in Poets
The street signs as I pass are barely legible. I have no desire for anything edible. "What is wrong?" many ask "I'm fine." I say
The sun rises, and through my window, starts to shine But nothing takes to color Light does not reach these eyes of mine.