I remember weeping when you told me your dream of having hair again,
looking at old photographs telling the story
but now it’s Christmas, My Love
and the beauty of the season
is still healing us.
As the grief dissipates
we can dream new dreams
as as we embrace the future
nose to nose,
smiling, walking within the lights
as we hold each others hand.
Note: I share this as a matter of personal experience, of how love sees us through the difficult times, not out of any sense of self pity.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies