3 decades and 3 years
an eternity of sorrow tortured his heart
be she dead or alive or lost in poverty and sorrow
black crows swirled observant of the past and a great white storm of
doves leavened the future
his mind now depopulate with grief knew no direction
he simply did not know
he wished her well but only craved her warm past
to soften him
his journey hard as flint is harder than stone
Flynnpoetry 