The Black Scarf
Early morning in one
Mother take a bus ride to the city
Blank by its aim
No one knows why.
She cried as she goes back at two
But I could swear
Her black handkerchief was on her head.
Her children went around her
To comfort her
There was only sob and deep breath
That I could hear.
Almost dusk, we take our supper
Then sleep to bed.
Copyright © Hugo Sarvida Jr. | Year Posted 2023
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