Think on this:
Not that steel and glass
scrubbed one's future
in a shriek of rubber
but rather how
he was yours to grow
with a score of years
from early bedded love
then briefly yours alone
till you shared him
screaming to the world
yours, from seed to sand
No being has more
to live for
whatever fortune's interval.
His memory endures
as shall your pain.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment