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Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2219397
In loving memory of Barb Gould, Dillon, Montana.
Dear Barb,
wherever you are;

a long time ago
you took me in
when I had no place
else to be,
nobody else
in the entire world
gave a damn.

This was 1998;
you were 73,
I was 39.

Quite an age gap.

we fell in Love
when you started writing
for my tiny 'zine,
but I was still trying
to salvage my marriage,
so. . . .

Then came the nasty day
in Sierra Vista Arizona
when my wife
informed me,
in NO uncertain terms
that our marriage
had run its course,
and it was time to go.

I called you
for the first time ever
at a pay phone
outside our apartment
as a rare snow
began to fall.

You answered immediately,
we talked about it,
and you suggested that,
since you were alone
and had room to spare,
I MIGHT consider
making the trip
to Dillon Montana,
where you lived.

It took some time
to put the plan into action
because there were loose ends
to tie up,
things to settle with my wife
I boarded that bus,
saying goodbye to her
for the final time.

It was a long-shot,
wasn't it,
but for four
blissful years
we were happy together,
until my insecurities
got the better of me,
and I hurt you badly,
deserting you
when you needed me most.

To this day,
my heart grieves
for the pain I caused you,
and even though
it's been many years
since we last spoke,
I love you still.

Enough time has gone by
to where it seems certain
that you're gone
from this mortal coil,
but to this day
I still miss you,
still love you madly.

some WAY
you can read this
from your heavenly abode,
and if so
my efforts aren't in vain.

Barb Gould;
wherever you are.

I still love you.

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