by Ben Pickard   Jul 7, 2020

This broken hair clip's all I have
Of all we had in years gone by,
And though no hair is locked in place,
Your memory is amplified.
Across the hills, your laughter rang,
But now I hear just ghostly wails,
And no amount of sun or warmth
Can dry my sodden rain boot's trails.
My cup holds only buttercups -
You picked them in the meadow's bloom -
But now your going means that they
Lie wilting in the winter's gloom.


Ben Pickard 2020

*For MA's Three Object thread and Liz's challenge - hair clip, rain boots and cup


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Latest Comments

  • 1 month ago

    by Meena Krish

    A memory filled with good moments as well as pain, where items are treasured of the one who has departed, yet not from one's heart..nicely written.

  • 3 months ago

    by Milly Hayward

    Beautifully written as usual and full of emotion. Milly x

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