Some Marriages Last Half a Century
I miss her voice
The way I heard it first
In the innocent youthful talk of books.
Saturday evening glass of wine
Listening to music, I used to search her eyes
For her lonely soul.
I can’t remember now if we ever kissed
Or if it would make a difference:
If I could love her any more or less.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Added by Poetry Lover
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