I found myself in the ruins again.
How many years had it been? Ten?
Maybe more, it’s hard to remember
I think it may have been September
〰〰〰〰〰
They’re still standing, the ivied walls
I see my children when they were small
Standing by them on that tour
They wanted to climb, it was that allure
〰〰〰〰〰
The beckoning of adventure then
Scrambling up, not by my hand
And then the tragedy, the loss
Children gone before I could cross
〰〰〰〰〰
Gone into depths unknown
And there it was, I was shown
How quickly life can be gone
Mine was death from that moment on
〰〰〰〰〰
https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/01/19/first-line-friday-january-19th-2018/
I rarely write such tales about children just because they are so heartbreaking, but on occasion it becomes necessary. I’d rather have my children have happy endings.
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Yes, it was weird for me, but what came to mind.
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I know. The muse can take us strange places at times.
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