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<
Poems
by Linda
Harvey
>
Mick
Yes,
I loved my man.
Didn't always understand,
but love over 48 years
goes above and around.
Love covers what can't be known.
Now
I see more clearly
who he was,
the Mickness
of Mick
has left a hole.
Others
come
and others go,
depart this mortal coil—
so why is strange he's not here?
Where are you?
is my often cry
as I sit in the pain
and
wait
© Linda Harvey. For permission to re-use contact godfrey@wordsout.co.uk.
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