Twenty One Years and An Undecided Future
A Slow drift in warm, slimy, stagnate waters that is what we have become.
He comes in the door and doesn't speak daily; He never asks me how I am.
His only response is no....
Just a touch in all the right time and places would mean so much.
The seven year itch has a hold on me accompanied by severe sadness that no pill
can hide.
Losing long time neighbors often has my clock ticking noticably by me.
Sickness and aging has a deep sadness gripping my heart. I know to hold on to
hope and make the day a blessing. Overwhelming pain takes my happy places.
Tomorrow......there is hope!
Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2011
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