Beneath the Apple Tree

R.B. Winters
R.B. Winters
Mom 1 Comment

I heard the news,time just stopped.
It was so unreal,
my heart stopped.
A childish trick,
my mind stopped.

A thousand tears,
a broken heart,
a torn up soul,
forming this hole.

Maybe things were bad,
did you feel alone?
An empty feeling of sad,
I feel alone.
And now I know,
you’re never coming home.

All night I cried,
I want to hide,
a piece died,
someone stop this ride.

Now in the silence, I think:
You’ll never again,
feel the grass on your skin,
the breath of the wind,
a summer rain,
or any pain.

The story ended.
And though I wish,
things so different,
I sit here alone,
beneath the apple tree.

For me it began here,
and here I’ll have to let it end.

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