the pain of yesterday's existence
as her eyes reflect the darkness of his
illicit past, emotions crest and ebb,
like the tides along the sandy shore
when he can look no more he walks away,
recalling her eyes' reflection of the
stranger he'd become, knowing he's
no longer the Adam in her garden.
(c)Beulah G. Skinner
published in Skipping Stones 2004
Nice work
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