Cool breeze blowing through the
trees.
I think of the days , the nights, the hours, you were here
With me..
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
