All her indifferent relationships were enough,
enough for one lifetime,
for it was long since past the time
when she should have been the most important person
in someone’s life.
Life had a way of stealing,
of taking away that which she needed most,
a gentle touch,
even a hand to hold.
Love was a mystery,
a desired thing,
a dream that wouldn’t fade even when the tears would flow.
©March 2019, Christina Anne Hawthorne