Cool breeze blowing through the
I think of the days , the nights, the hours, you were here
You set yourself free, the day you left me..
June 2004, you left me standing
On the floor, wondering why, you said good-bye. I cried and cried. Every June that passes by, I dry the tears from my eyes. I watch the cool breeze blowing through the trees and I think of you and me..
This poem is for my mother, Gloria Franco..she passed away June- 2004