The Loss of You
The heel of my black,wedge shoe connects with rough gravel. Rocks crunch under my feet as I make my way up the drive. Growing closer soft murmurs begin to rise. a soft whimper escapes those who were close. Matted clouds block the shining sun as the musty scent of rain begins to form. What I thought was rain trickling down my face, was a tear spilling over, Saying my last goodbye.