ronbliss

Today as I was sorting through,
Some things to throw away,
I ventured on a pretty box,
That came from yesterday,

Inside I found some photographs,
Each one told a tale,
Of you and I and days gone by,
And love that has grown stale,

I read through some old Valentines,
So full of love and passion,
Love letters that we wrote to each,
Emotion without ration,

A ribbon from your hair was there,
Some tickets to a play,
A flower pressed, from your wedding dress,
Do we throw these away?

There was a poem I wrote for you,
Of how our love would last,
Yet as I read the words of it,
It all seemed in the past.

I felt a tear roll down my cheek,
As I reviewed each piece,
Can love, grown cold, be turned around?
Or will it someday cease?

These letters, trinkets, photographs,
Are so symbolic of,
The bond that told us we were one,
The bond of natural love.

I closed the box, tucked it away,
And sat transfixed in space,
How can two hearts, so much in love,
Let all then be erased.

An hour went by, I found myself,
At desk, with pen in hand,
“I love you more than you can know,
I hope you understand”,

I wrote a poem, with promises,
That, as days pass away,
I’ll love you more, each passing hour,
Than I did yesterday.

PaintedDiary

Dear Ron,

I have no idea how I missed this one!!!! How true, oh how true, and vivid the memories from this diary page. Truly have been there, and I read it as if I just went through this "yesterday". You have an amazing ability to "Place" your audience, and capture there attention from beginning to end. I invite you to read a short poem of mine called "Music Box", as this poem reminded me of that poem, when you get a chance. This was beautifully painted, and left me with a good feeling about those extinct memories. Loved it!!!!

{{~~**Painted**~~}}

ronbliss

Painteddiary,
Mailed your books two days ago so you should get them about Monday. Thank you for reading this poem........ this one is part diary and part fantasy for me. I will read Music Box. Again, thanks.
Ron