April

GREEN GONE GRAY

___ measure your love for your mother_ _ Sarasota Zen Meditation Society.jpg‘Your baby is premature’
That’s what the doctor said.
What ignites this hell and torture
Or has pain no perfect end?
Shall new pastures never flourish long
Or must man’s sworn enemy ever win?

Conception was as beautiful as dawn
Carrying with it glitters of affection
Dropping on every heart a flicker
Of something far greater than morn
The drive through the park
The music played to the unborn
The soft cuddles and caresses
Of the little one with the feeble heart.

The late night walks and dances
And the promise of a new life
Different from the old and usual
Draped with longings and wishes
The reckless love for luxuries
And the emblem of midnight praise.

Is this how days stop halfway?
Is this how green glories sail astray?
Do houses have to fall and crumble?
Must fires always raze down new fields?
The doctor didn’t see his words spark
He never saw the wild flames flash
Tearing into your sickening soul
As he heralded the news of your loss.

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