Which is worse?

I'm not sure anymore.


I think of it more than I should perhaps,
but the ache is still there,
nagging and reminding me on occasion.


Sometimes during the fading beauty of a sunset,
maybe the rumble of distant thunder,
or just from staring into the starry night sky.


Which is worse?

Thinking she is happy and content with life,
or missing me as much as I miss her?


Which is worse?


My empty mailbox each morning,
an empty mailbox at night,
a saddened sigh that evening,
a sad whisper goodnight?


I prefer to think she is happy,
laughing with her new found friends,
enjoying her new home and moving on.


WHICH IS WORSE?


I think....


To have been forgotten.











~Author~ Michael Garland

Robins Web