You’re still my symphony. There only just ashes over my love.
Tears streamed down his eyes.
Friday Flash Fiction |
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He stood at the shore watching the seagulls. He wondered why he couldn’t stop turning over the pages of yesterday. He wondered why he was still saddled by its cloud. Walking by the sea was a delight for him but this time around it wasn’t taking him out of the gloomy room. He knew she had good reasons for leaving. He knew she had been scarred by his bad habits. He had cut her to the deep. He could remember the note she left.
You’re still my symphony. There only just ashes over my love. Tears streamed down his eyes.
Paul A Freeman
25/8/2023 10:44:17 pm
Alas, seasons change.
Thompson Emate
28/8/2023 04:38:22 am
Yes, it does.
Sue Clayton
29/8/2023 05:01:32 am
The symphony's still playing.
Thompson Emate
31/8/2023 12:46:23 pm
It sure is. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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