Christian and Kris
Christian is a friend of mine
He stands tall, as a big oak tree
Who could imagine a tree falling
So devastatingly...
as when he got the news of the passing of
Kris
He ranted and he raved at me
He cursed and he yelled at me
Then he would cry to me
And ask “Why? Why? Why?” to me
“would God take away the mother of my child?”
Kris
He made an effort to move on then
I tried to be a supportive friend
I doubt he read the things I’d send
Then he’d ask me, “When? When? When?”
He wanted to know when the healing began from losing
Kris
I can picture him late at night
With his eyes closed real, real tight
Picturing the two of them in the bright sunlight
Knowing his feelings aren’t those he can fight
So he whispers to no one in the night
I love you, Kris.
Copyright © Deborah Mcnulty | Year Posted 2011
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