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03/25/20 at 11:39PM
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Poetry
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See more by MFish
It was dark
and was raining,
when she came
through the door.
The beautiful one,
was my Eleanor.
The wonderful smile,
a batting of eyes,
I had seen this before,
the beautiful one,
was my Eleanor.
The magical smile,
shiny black hair
has turned white,
not dark anymore,
the beautiful one
is my Eleanor
Her memory gone,
with much despair.
Eyes without sparkle,
not as before,
still the beautiful one,
is my Eleanor.
