David
The world sore from the loss of your promise
A hollow, ringing sound as a gust
Blows through
Cold inside bones like
Blue slushies, Eye of the Tiger and the
Knee-high sweat socks that
Mothers dressed their 1970’s boys in
That baby seat,
And abandoned rainbow-colored toy
A sort of celebration and
The worst kind of goodbye
Yes. That is loss. You captured it.
ReplyDeleteThe worst kind of goodbye
ReplyDeleteThat says it all.
Loss is such a sad subject to write about, sadder still to live with. Sending much love to help heal.
ReplyDeleteThe worst kind of goodbye, how very, very sad ~ those words....
ReplyDelete