It’s strange
how death eats its way into life, leaving everything undone
Beginnings fade
away like old cobwebs and endings begin to stay.
A child
weeps for the warmth of his mother, not understanding that she climbs the
stairs
While a
mother sobs into her pillow, knowing that her little darling isn’t there
But what should
I say to the shadow of a memory?
But what should
I say to the silence around?
With threads
of hope we string along our lives, only to leave it all undone.
3 comments:
Tres Beau...
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