Page 1, An old poem I found while flicking through my notebooks

Smiling silently,

Watching old memories,

They flit around like old faded movies,

All black, white and grey,

Ghosts of the past,

I watch the wind blow her hair into her face,

They laugh and watch the world go by,

Not a care or a worry,

I wipe the tear from my face as he gives her a flower,

Just a simple daisy, but she is happy,

The images flicker and fade,

And the tears flow more freely,

Because they are what used to be,

And I am what is now,

As I sit on the grass here,

I lay down a simple daisy,

Next to her marble stone,

And walk away from what once was.

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