Unrequited Lace

It goes so deep – what I wish I had done for her, how much love was in me, searching for a way to show itself, instead of the annoyed 45 year old adolescent who turned up, again and again, to take her here or there on what I couldn’t permit myself to see were her inevitably numbered days.

So deep, in fact, that there is no cure for it but time and lacy wings of butterfly compassion.  I hope, Barbara Anne Downtain, that this photo will suffice to show you what I had in mind.


4 thoughts on “Unrequited Lace

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