I worked my shift,
She entered the store,
Her spoken words
Not heard before:
I'd like to store
My husband's gloves,
His childish laugh,
His passioned love,
His subtle bluff,
His mellow smile,
His poker cards,
His running mile.
Our fifty years
Of paradise
My memories
Are sweet and bright,
Our life was filled
With care and warmth
That melted ice
In winter storms.
I've no regrets
Pardon, monsieur,
I'd like to keep
All this somewhere...
In Public Storage
© Copyright: Яков Зайден, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111102905516
Свидетельство о публикации №111102905516
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