The Bluestone Review 2020

The Bluestone Review 2020

Poetry

Exploring options Arranging your food Standing up to go wander

Easing your worries How was your day? My day was eh because stress I do not like stress The Killer of Love By Walter Shroyer Her breast was cold as ice, while I touched her resting. Time came this morning, like an eroding river. Come back to me, I begged. As the sun peeked through the window, warming our bed, the tears rolled inside. What kept us from victory? What hindered our path? Are we righteous? Is there hope over the horizon? where the sun warms the earth. where the trees rejoice, and the birds start to sing. The cow moos, as the frost starts to melt, rising skyward to the heavens. God do you hear me this morning? Enough to move on? I am wandering alone, this frozen winter.

as I touch her cold breast. How did we get so parted?

Was it the cancer? The killer of love

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