I treated myself today: I visited the National Gallery at Trafalgar Square in London and spent several blissful hours wandering, lost in contemplation of the exceptional collection of paintings on show there.
"Just let it go," is what they said, "Don't store it up inside your head." But even though the memories hurt, To bury them beneath the dirt Would be to lose a vital part And risk you fading from my heart.
So I would rather face the pain Of never seeing you again If that's the price I have to pay For thinking of you every day. I only hope that I can be The kind of mum you were to me.
Here we are, on the homeward leg. Past the halfway point now and heading to the finish line. I’m enjoying this writing prompt I came up with very much. Who knows what December might bring: keep an eye out!
She sits alone and thinks of days Old voices echo in her ears While feelings light upon her face Then fall among the dust of years
She sits alone and thinks of one An empty space within her heart Reminds her of a time far gone A promise that was torn apart
She sits alone and thinks of now Of all that she's seen come to pass Of when she used to dream of how Her beau would come back to his lass
She sits alone and thinks of him The news that broke confirmed her fears That fate would snatch him on a whim Her smile is brittle through her tears