Grief in waves, lungs fill, water pours, breathing stops.
Sitting alone in the dark, wicker creaks beneath, wine glass drips condensation
in time with tears.
Clouds cover moon and darkness deepens.
Thoughts pass and flow from despair to hope and back again.
A shadow at the back screen door, silhouetted by 6 bright bulbs of the chandelier,
looks out wondering why?
Hiding in the dark of midnight waiting for the shadow to retreat so the sounds of sadness
don't have to be swallowed whole.
32 years, when does it end?
The graft is still tied to the stranger branch, being held back but yearning for the original, tongue tied,
arms released but still struggling against invisible restraints.
The roots are still and waiting, wishing, sending thoughts on the breeze heading north.
Keeping it light, texting a smile, another week goes by.