Across
long years I mourn
her loss –
yearn for
her laugh with each
downpour,
descry
her smile in each
short high.
Ryan Stone
Across
long years I mourn
her loss –
yearn for
her laugh with each
downpour,
descry
her smile in each
short high.
Ryan Stone
An Old Plumber, An Ex-Carer, An Amateur Poet, Words From The Heart
a quarterly journal of short prose
literary journal
Every Life Story Begins with a Mum
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Writer/Editor/Teacher/Advocate
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Begin Anyway
Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)
Dive into a collection of memories, musings and emotions concocted delicately over time into short stories and introspective articles...
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A bit of this and that
The view from my front porch (in Pennsylvania) or back patio (in London) every morning, in tweet-sized bites
too much coffee, too little sleep, a love of words...
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welcome to my insanity.
Writer. Reader. Equestrian. Explorer.
And so it goes...
This gives a beautiful ache. A heartfelt piece.
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Thank you, Rosema. Very kind of you 🙂
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honest. 😉
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🙂
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such a loss, i’m sorry –
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Thanks for your kind words, Beth. An old scar.
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Lovely piece. A tribute to someone lost? A beautiful ache indeed, as Rosema writes.
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Thank you, Amanda. It is, indeed 🙂
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WOW…..WOW….
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Thank you…Thank you 🙂
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Most welcome, always 🙂
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I realise I’m long overdue for an hour on your site, too. You’re high on my list of priorities 🙂
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No worries, Ryan–I’m not going anywhere…that I know of. Take care 🙂
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Pain memorized on highs and lows of routines. Your words leave a melancholy feeling behind.
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Thank you, dear Moon 🙂
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Beautiful!
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She was. Thank you so much, Carisa 🙂
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