Our first kiss on the steps
of a funeral home. I wore
purple lilac. You wore
Old Spice cologne.

And our tiny house,
four walls painted
green, not much to see,
a good place to dream

with brown bats
hanging in willow trees
and bare wooden
floors loving our feet.

where Dan’s songs
touched our souls,
made us believe
we could run for roses

Life was lived in Lightfoot’s
lavendar and blue jeans,
Oh, what days before
the end of innocence.

Years defy physics,
moments in our minds,
treasured, we think
are here to stay,
a blink, a turn,
and they are


Author: Darlene Franklin-Campbell

I am a poet, novelist and artist living in the Appalachian Foothills. I believe we are great spiritual beings on a journey through this physical realm. We are timeless entities stepped into time.

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