by Liz Pace /Marine Corporal Mark’s mother


Time as we were told could be stored in a bottle,
Slipped in the river,
Tossed in the waves,
To be found by someone searching


Searching for companionship,
Looking for that special friend
The friend you could say anything to,
The friend that would still be there for you some 40 years later


Trusting a hand,
A hand with a future in mind,
A mind so capable of learning,
Observing and comprehending,
All bits and pieces of information
At the same time


So vague, so seemingly important,
So true to us at that precise moment
We try to grasp but never are able
To reach or catch the one purpose


The purpose, the object that we
Keep chasing, stirring, running after
Time after time, never gaining
Any ground towards their inner being


Love as no other, having no end,
A bond that helps you breathe,
Soothe and expand to your true being


Growing together as one, united,
Bonding, trusting, loving,
Enjoying one another till eternity,
Your soul mate, matrimony

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