Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

Can it truly be
That the existence of you and me
Will be as if it never were
With no him and with no her?

Tell me.

Can it truly be
That the formation of a family
Will be a thing of naught,
An entity that time forgot?

Tell me.

Can it truly be
That our sacrifices to live free
Will count for little worthwhile,
Except for pimps primping in their guile.

Tell me.

Can it truly be
That universes without end
Are the happenstances of luck and chance
An invitation to join a celestial dance.

Tell me.

Can it truly be
That Mother’s scored back and hands
Were hardly signs of ceaseless labor
Only barely more than rendering us a favor.

Tell me.

Can it truly be
That the growing number of empty chairs
Symbolize nothing that need give pause,
Many of their occupants were rife with flaws.

Tell me.

Can it truly be
That when dreamless sleep owns mine and me
The toil and the striving and the loving we knew
Won’t matter as much as a robin’s fall call
Mind not that in earnest we gave life our all.

Tell me.

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