My Heart is an Angel

With wings of feathers

Sometimes white, sometimes black

With streaks of pure grief

Eternal underlying grief is my curse

But I let it give me life and I let it grow me

And I spread my wings to whisper and say

“I am here, I am here, I am here.”

 

 

I Miss You

I miss the days we’d garden together

I miss the tree where I held the parasol

I miss your soft, wrinkly hand as it held mine while we walked

I miss your kind smile

And your accent

And your story about the train

Writing this I want to cry…

Because I’ll never see you again.

 

 

A Hand With Flowers

A hand with flowers, passing them to me

A hand with seeds, throwing them, scattering them, as far as the eye can see

A hand on a bed, empty, still as can be.

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