Constants

She often talked of constants.
Love, to her, meant witnessing.
Meant being there through thick and thin.
It was the first
And the last thing
She ever did tell me.

Fate’s cruel twist:

I now think of her constantly.




Poetry by Sameen The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2025-11-02 at 16:13

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
I found this poem to be really emotive, and I feel that were she able, she would be so proud that you have learned from her. Often only when we have lost something do we see the value of them. Blessings, Allen
2025-11-02



in a constant life
I think
min=max
It would be a humdrum life
2025-11-02