A story.


He took what solace he could find,
spending long desolate hours walking the fields,
sitting in the church,
letting the music there transport his very soul 
to such magnificent heights, where all sorrow fled 
his heart and mind.
But each time, upon opening his eyes
his ruined heart was cleaved in two again at his remembering.


Martin H. said...

Sometimes, the ability to recall events in their smallest detail, is a kind of curse.

You have captured preoccupation/obsession, well.

helen said...

I see you are using Hipstamatic app a lot. Like the effect.