My Poetry. A Picture of you.

I found a picture of you,
from my own younger days;
your eyes, they still possess the light,
to fill the whole room in beautiful ways.
The past is the past, that much is true,
but some moments are simply hard to forget;
memories come flooding back instantly,
not just for me, I know, I bet.

You had to go away then,
with no chance of looking back;
you left me a final, brief letter
while you chose to softly pack.
The days that followed were so long,
the nights were restless, without sleep;
knowing I had lost the promise of your love
cut me unexpectedly deep.

The sudden way you left that day
hurt me with a profound, bitter pain;
my heart felt tattered and torn then,
steeped in sadness like an endless rain.
But that was the day, long, long ago;
we both have moved on since then, you see.
Time has worked to gently lighten the blow,
setting both our spirits free.

Yet I still hold you so fondly,
in the treasured silence of my past;
and I believe our enduring friendship will blossom,
a connection certain to grow and last.
For the warmth of that love, though changed in form,
remains a gentle, beautiful charm.

© William Sinclair Manson 2025