Wednesday

Rounded Nights


Perched in grief, she sat at the edge of the bedA continuous sorrow flowed easily from her lungs

That year seemed a decade really...
A decade where tears sang under my door every night calling me to her side

I was struck dumb at my mother's broken heart
I would have done anything to correct this error,

this miscalculation of our future

But my thirteen years held no education

My education was to follow this decade of a year
I became a daughter wise beyond my father's infliction upon my mother's heart
Wise beyond the belief that restitution would ever be made