Sometimes she sits and broods
And knows the darkly moods
Will pull her down
And let her drown
In memories unlocked
From dark rooms. Nothing blocked
From the sad days and hours.
All this sours
And stirs and pains her deep.
She wants to sleep,
But sleep won't come;
Only the dumb
Dark, and wasting clock,
And the thoughts unlock
Hurt, tears, and let out breath,
Reminding her of baby's death.
rate
email
print
link to this page
Comments: 14
My husband's mother lost Kenny's older brother when Kenny was only six. His childhood was spent in sorrow then. It was sad that she never again lived for the child that was left.
Something different.