the dead
stick with you.
sometimes
staying quiet
in the attic
of your mind,
then there are
moments when
they sing,
and give you
joy, remembering
a day
you shared.
but it rains
too, their missing
hands on
your shoulders,
the feeling of love
not lessened
by a ruthless clock
that brings all
together
in time.
Sunday, September 7, 2014
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