He never got over
the death of his
beautiful wife
of over 30
wonderful years.
Even ten years
later, his eyes
still tear up
when he holds
one of her dresses
and thinks of her.
When he holds one
of her dresses,
he imagines her
still in it and sighs.
Then he comes out
of his reverie
and awakens
to the
painful reality
that she is never
going to be in
that dress again.
And torrents of tears
fall from his eyes.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Quomodo cogis comas tuas sic videri?
79, cancer survivor, work out 3 times a week, ride my exercise bike 2 hours daily. Began writing poetry October 2023, living in Greensboro, North Carolina, originally from just outside of Boston, MA.
Retired and enjoying a solo, reclusive life always researching and gaining knowledge. Most of my poems are fictional.
I write about many things: Spirituality, Mysticism, the Paranormal, Cryptids, Werewolves, Ghosts, 411s, Nature, Birds, Animals, Romantic Love, Death, NDEs, Women Persecuted as Witches, Fictional Characters I Create, News Stories, AI, Robots, Insects, like the poem entitled, Hail Caesar Bob, (about when bees were swarming me outside the door to my apartment), and many other topics. I write a minimum of 3 poems daily, sometimes more.
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