Reading a Dear John with blurry, red eyes,
letters swimming, with shock 'n' surprise,
pains in my head right down to my toes,
shaking in my now sweating, wet clothes.
walking around shedding many, hurtful tears,
thinking about all those wonderful years,
the good, the bad...the happy, the sad,
does it now make her gratefully glad? .
But,
I will admit, she was beautiful, she shone,
I now have to sadly accept...shes gone! .
Ricky Owen
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-dear-john/
