The Duration of Mourning
I hear the murmuring.
Is it the strength
ebbing away? Just
damned inconvenience,
when adulthood fails.
It's like the days
from my memory.
How fear wells up
with all its push-me-
pull-me.
Push-me-pull-me
waiting for rest.
Another's sorrow so
becomes my own.
Copyright © Don Schaeffer | Year Posted 2012
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