left behind that are sad.
that cry.
it's those
in the empty rooms,
the wide
cold beds,
those sitting alone
at the kitchen
table
in the morning light,
that grieve.
no words help, no
slight of hand,
no ray
of sun.
each note of a song
has the power
to take you to your knees.
each smell,
each new season brings
it all back.
at first
it appears
that even time will
never heal.
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