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


  1. Thank you Daryl. There is healing in the capturing of truth,no?

  2. Omigosh. I am in the room with you as I reading this, and I can feel your mother's broken heart. Yours too.

  3. Great poetry, sweetie.


  4. Not much makes ME cry. That is usually my job. Beautiful and haunting.

  5. Powerful! I feel the real pain of a real person, not some flaky half-baked expression of ernestness. You get to the heart of the matter, thank-you.