My Darling, RoseA Poem by Linda Marie Van TassellHer clothes hang in the closet. The room smells of her perfume.Her clothes hang in the closet. The room smells of her perfume. Their bed is dressed with pillows of antique lace, some heirloom. The walls are painted eggshell. Windows are draped floral green, and a strand of cultured pearls lays in silence and unseen.
His hat hangs from the bedpost. Her slippers wait on the floor. Silence echoes a sad truth from behind that bedroom door. He sleeps with her memory, but his soul can never rest. She was all he ever loved, and he loved the very best.
She left him in December when he woke to find her dead, and he wept as he held her and cradled her precious head. Her lips were lavender blue like periwinkle in spring, and her skin was winter’s ash or a shadow whispering.
He held her there for hours, could not bear to let her go, just one more chance, one moment, and one lifetime more to go. She was his very best friend, his companion, and his wife. She was more than a partner. She was the wellspring of life.
His clothes hang in the closet. The room smells of aftershave. He wore his hat this morning to visit her at the grave. He left a fragrant bouquet, one last gift of love he chose, then closed his eyes and whispered, "Here I come, my darling, Rose." © 2017 Linda Marie Van TassellAuthor's NoteReviews
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Added on June 7, 2017Last Updated on December 1, 2017 Tags: Love, Everlasting, Eternal, Linda Marie Van Tassell AuthorLinda Marie Van TassellVAAboutPoetry has been my passion since I was about fifteen years old, and I love the structure of rhyme and meter moreso than just randomly throwing words upon a page without any form whatsoever. Whi.. more..Writing
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