AND THEN THERE WAS MUSIC

And then he wrote of his love for her.
Her beauty, now fragile, infused his words.
And I felt the depth of his love
In the passion of his written word.

And then he wrote of his love for her.
Her life, now silenced, inhabited his words.
And I grieved for this stranger
Who openly exposed his heart.

And he writes of his love for her.
Her memory, now vivid, permeates his being.
And I listen as words on the page
Sing in the absence of music.

Marie Elena

In honor of this day.

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