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Post by Reilley on Feb 23, 2014 12:08:42 GMT -6
The photo on the bridge was his favorite. The one they asked a stranger to take. The sun was shy that day, so was she.
Feeding bits of bread to gulls, asking questions that drew them closer, he recalls the meal they shared on the pier.
Her charcoal hair was now diamond but the emerald of her eyes had never changed. He had forgotten that her hosiery was cream colored until just this moment.
Is it time that blurred these two? Or tears?
Her eyes were wide under the clouds, now faded in the print he held before placing it next to her head on the satin pillow that would hold her for eternity.
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Post by Cory Raymond on Feb 23, 2014 18:02:30 GMT -6
Hi Reilley,
Very moving and sad. Overall, I like this. I am, however, bothered by statements like "the satin pillow that would hold her for eternity". It's a bit of a hyperbole and definitely not true. I think there's probably a better way to express the fact that she's dead, without linking her forever to something as material as a satin pillow in a coffin." Other than this minor nit, this is great. I'm really looking forward to getting to know you and seeing more of your work.
CR
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Post by eiken on Feb 24, 2014 4:26:27 GMT -6
Reilly, Such a poignant piece, heartbreaking and beautifully phrased. These two lines really said so much for me Is it time that blurred these two? Or tears? It leaves the reader to imagine what possibly happened to them over the years and with her dead, his favourite photo placed in her coffin, he only has his memories, beautiful work. You never disappoint!!
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saore
Junior Member
Posts: 91
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Post by saore on Feb 24, 2014 11:13:47 GMT -6
Great poem I really liked how it progressed from one line to the other. Excellent line breaks.
Sergio
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Post by SweetSilverBird on Feb 28, 2014 21:56:16 GMT -6
Darn it, Reilley! Ow! Well written!
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