Today is for counting my wasted yesterdays
Each one neatly lined up, row on dusty row
Every year the same...
Today is for remembering your unborn tomorrows
And the time I sit, because walking is too slow
There is no blame...
Today is for pretending to make sense of the past
From a life ended, with nothing to show
When I speak your name...
Today is for thinking that memories last
But all they do is fade, until they go...
Like every unfinished song to be sung...
About the death of a son.
Copyright © 2012 Bill Friday
I have no words Bill...
ReplyDeleteThose were beautiful words Aggie... thank you.
DeleteThis brought tears to my eyes and squeezed my heart. The loss of a child is a thorny pain that never leaves you. Beautifully written.
ReplyDeleteI can't imagine how this sort of pain would feel... but you did bring me in as close as I could get. This is a powerful and sad write.
ReplyDeleteJill,
DeleteThank you for letting yourself be drawn in. It's not a happy place to go, but at least you let yourself go there... and come back again.