Frenchringer

By Frenchringer

The white shadow

The picture is blurry... Maybe it is because of a tear !

Not yet a ghost...
But a shadow already... Or almost !
He becomes memory... He, who does not have any more !
He has become a stone... He does not ricochet anymore !
He, who was a pebble...
He, who was a rebel !


Today I went to get my mother at the station. She had just returned from a few days of rest !
With my sister...

Today, I went to Vinça to look for a glimmer in the eyes of my father who spends his time ... to spend the time !
With Mr Alzheimer…

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