Now it is over,
She is ready to tell of
All those repeating
Patterns of thought
She never believed
She would share.
But the time has come
To write it all down
And my God,
He created and ruined her,
And yet
She loves him still.
YOU ARE READING
4pm Winter Sun
PoetryUnexpected, strange and secret, but the sun streamed through the trees and the driveway sparkled in the frost, and she didn't care about anything else, she was happy for a little while with him.
