“The Second Year”

Two years  

Cramming days so full     

That exhaustion tumbles me into bed each night   

Drawing old friends into my orbit   

As I spin, spin, spin   

And throw-off grief and loss   

I pull on your fuzzy blue robe   

And snuggle into your warmth   

Comforted   

Memory lets me linger with your laughter   

Takes my hand and leads me to your crooked smile   

Tugs me out of those months of shadow and spills me into sunshine 

I speak of you, your battle, and the years of care  

Without weeping   

Softness swaddles my sadness   

Sorrow defines the second year   

 

 

 

Copyright 2014 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman