Two poems by poet, Paula Readman ......

The Gun 

A life gone.
Blood on the street.
A cold stone, with words so incomplete.


We now parted:

The wind echoed around the old oak tree and lifted its forgotten leaves, as I hurried by to make my leave.
You, who had been so quick, so pleased to say your final goodbye, with no thought or care,
I made my way along the path. The one for so many summers before, we had made it our own.
The distant bells, that had once rang the joy of our union, now echoed a mournful tone.
What earthly reason was there for you to go?
I, who had nothing to give you, but me, myself, and I,
Sit alone and mourn the passing of the tide.
This one life, one love, can never be again.
I hear your voice, it echoes in the wind that lifts the leaves around the old oak tree.
Then it chases itself down the valley and is gone.
A distant reminder of some forgotten time; once held to be true.
You, who were so dearly loved, my perfect world.
Has left me now, so broken hearted.
Once we had said those words, I held to be so true.
Let no man put asunder, and you had said I do.
Where now are the long hot summer days?
Where now are our gentle walks under the green canopy, while all around us the birds do sing?
I must hurry now for soon you will be gone and all that will be left to mark this earthly life,
Will be a cold, cold stone…