A Poem – Week Twenty-Nine

This poem is untitled and was written sometime in the early 2000s. Now, it makes me think of my mother.

It’s difficult not to be sad,

When I think of you.

These times should be joyous,

But I can only think of the loss.

You’re with the angels now

A warm breeze in your flowing hair,

But I cannot share your happiness,

Selfishness causes my eyes to tear

Time became our combatant.

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