I Too. . .

Your name has been etched
on to that cold, gray stone
behind the words
in memory of

Does the stone paint a picture
of the sparkle your eyes once held
as you told me the stories
of your own childhood years?

Can it recall the warmth
remembered in your voice
as you hugged me tightly to yourself
whispering, “I love you”?

So on my piece of paper
in words composed in ink
I too write
so your memories are not forgotten

Joy Elaine - July 10, 2006


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