'Jimmy' Poem by satira black
'Jimmy'
As I smell the Fall I feel you
It was then that we met
Your long black hair and the smell of your leather jacket mists the air
I need to think of you sometimes
You went before I could again feel you making me alive
Your death a ghost in my soul
Friday, August 31, 2007
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5/20/2024 8:36:38 AM # 1.0.0.1119
They always live on, in memory. Beautiful poem.