They only hit until you cry
After that you don't ask why...
The little loss (of this morning)
Is subsumed by the greater loss (of yesterday).
Always looking for her; A pale imitation of Her.
It's a jagged and deep cut that you had forgotten
But when you are there
It's 6:00 on that day.
"She's on her way out..." the nurse said
The milk helped a little and the sun shines.
Written at St. Raymond's Cemetery
July 20, 2007
