your touch




O, do you still see
roses standing fast
in the garden
without tears but
bold and brave.
there is nothing
but fragrance left
in those old blankets
folded neatly beside the bed
where you slept.
they are just
as you left them.
the room is still untouched
because he fears
tidiness may cause
a wrinkle in your memory.
even a little matters.
he at times struggles
existence without you.
a tear from heaven
far down
to his cheek
it is a reminder
to last forever
in your touch.

(c) 2016 rick stassi

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