Monday, May 28, 2018

another anniversary for the ones gone

for T, twenty years onward 

Soft blue eyes,
pale to the understanding

a little girl
with her hand in yours

jumping over a moving stream
picking up the clothes for toys

because she would not have know
motherhood then, like she does now

soft blue eyes
never letting her cry

because tears are made with our most precious
pain, that reverberates

when she thinks of you
away from your city

your old bones now,
tired to the call of a voice

tender to the fact that you
her protection is the first true father

she's ever had.

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