Tryst
Could it be?
Surely not
After a lifetime
of travelers passing by
Was it still
in the same spot?
It was worth a try
In the crevasse
Down below
A keepsake
marking the day
A token of love
left there long ago
Buried under the clay
With determination
it was recovered
Invoking feelings
long forgotten
Lost in thoughts
Recollections stirred
All wrapped up in cotton
He had never returned
She was now certain
Their tryst
a faded memory
Faces become hazy
Promises spoken and broken
Conjured in a sweet reverie
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©
In response to Sue Vincent's Thursday Photo Prompt
Word Prompt: Haze