Think of my love
In case I go
Some dark horizon beckoning
For some days it comes closer
But my heart is always with you
Even in deaths cold mist
My memory fading
My words becoming fainter
… with my voice
My image with you but my touch no more
… upon you.
But still I will be with you
Whispering faintly my endearments to you
Echoing in corridors of your mind
Think of me in that light summer breeze
A touch.
Think of me as it gently whispers in the trees
My voice
I love you.
© 2013 Stan Rogers. All rights reserved.
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