Breathing the frozen air, my rustling footsteps the only sign of life in this forgotten garden of time, green aged stones and twisted trees with a sea of leaves as its carpet. I know my spot despite my eyes, as I touch flashes of our past and countless others blend in. Holding my breath, breathing in the sweet nostalgia of forgotten love.
This time ‘79 you were on your knees before me, tears spill even now to wash my worn ring. Encrusted with our names. I feel your love as I did then,but this approaching darkness holds a comfort I need. The thoughts of you gone invoke the darkness I feel. I have aged, so has our garden. I will wait till death comes my love, till I call your name out loud for the last time.
Written for Friday Frictioneers Challenge