Touch
So long ago, loving hands touched these old ivory keys.
The day you left me roses, your favourite piece of music.
I placed my hands where yours had been,
Knowing I would never see you again.
Those beautiful roses faded, your memory still sharp,
Keeping the pain of lost love alive
Time can be so cruel when memory, I wish,
had faded alongside the roses…
© Anita Dawes 2021
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