Roller rink, fifty years ago.
Your hand in mine, waiting to go home.
Consequential decisions were made, a baby in the womb and bills to be paid.
In over our heads, reckless and young, we blamed it on the whiskey and the self-less love.
The child we raised grew to be tall, a strapping young man, figure was strong.
Raised in a home in shambles due to bitter grandparents, accusations were/are stammered.
The distance now is unbearable, the love we once shared benumbed to the core.
You've lost your mind and I am growing old.
I had no choice but to take you to a home.
Although you can't seem to remember who I am, your eyes filled with tears as I dropped your hand.
I left a coward dismayed with pain, you died a widow who'd/who's forgotten her name.
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