She picked up the cracked glass,

Shards gently weaving into her tender palm,

And caressed the image tightly.

Forty years ago,

They put on their best Sunday attire:

Dress, hat, shirt, tie,

And set out.

They gave up everything

For their dreams.

Leaving with only the best clothes they owned,

A guitar strapped to his back,

They chased their dreams.

She recalled…the way he played guitar

Enthralled all of God’s creations.

They stood,

Somber expressions on their face,

Depicting the struggles of their journey,

Guitar in hand on a sunny July day.

She held the image to her breast,

Tearing streaming down her face.

Gently lowering her body to the ground,

She felt the framework of her house cradle her in a shattered nest.

Looking towards the sky,

Surrounded by the fragments of the home they once built,

The dreams they once had,

The husband she once loved,

She clasped the remnant of the life she had lived.

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