mood: bereft | drinking: lemonade
Honeydew Melon
These are the heavy days.
I am weighed down by every hour.
Unwieldy with the delight of you
and cumbersome with her loss.
She would have loved you,
would have licked you,
would have introduced you
to the wonderful world of Dog.
But you have not yet arrived
and she is already gone.
Alone and ponderous,
I stagger through rooms
bereft of her sweet snuffling sounds,
rooms that await your newly born racket.
There is plenty of room
here for each of you
but not enough space
for my grief.
[written week 35]
-Lo, from limbo in week 37.
LaDonnaWitmer 