Pushing a cart, through the grocery store
A flowered blouse, opens memories door
An elderly lady, aided by her mate
Through grocers aisle circulates
A profusion of flowers she wears
Blossoms crowned, by her white hair
As her mate plods along by her side
Memories surface of my bride
As I look erupting; from my soul
Loving memories; I can not let go
Select what is right, for every meal
Such a mundane thought; I feel
Talk of children and their goals
Return of memories from dark shoals
Even more than our rapturous bliss
Her gentle companionship I miss
Memories of a flowered blouse
As I return to an empty house.
By George Wm Weber>
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