Til Death Do I Part From You 2
Outside is cool.
Sweat beads up on my neck.
I hear my daughter crying.
The house can get lonely when your alone.
Rain soaked the mud thoroughly.
My feet are darkened with the black dirt and decaying leaves.
My silk robe is ripped by red roses thorns.
I discard it.
It's cold.
My baby is still crying.
I follow the stranger deeper into the garden...
This poem is about:
Me