Standing silently
in the rain
she reminisced
her father’s memory.
His life
thrown away
after the death
of his wife,
his broken heart
leading him
to his own grave.
Staring at the
cold headstone,
she envisioned
her father’s face
painted as
a sad clown.
A single tear
mixed with raindrops
slipped down her cheek.
A street violinist
could be heard
in the distance,
so appropriate,
she thought
as she gently
lay a red rose
upon her father’s
grave.
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