I am at home watching the wind, but you are not.
where could you be, can you see me
Life's journey carries me along
washing the sharpness of loss from my bones.
You died, I don't understand, that I did not
Memory keeper, dreamer, writer.
My purpose, mother and nurture
A son whose birthing was brief and unsure.
Your anniversary is tommorrow, but next year it will not.
Magical leap year every fourth.
Breathing is future enough today,
remembering you in every small way.
Enjoying: One Painted Hand
1 day ago