. That clock is not working, as always, A paper pasted on its face The same faces litter the library The same voices call out in place. I too go about my business as usual Hammering at the keyboard Downing coffee and conversation And forget that you are dead. Except now and then…
Tag: grief
“Life is for the living.”
“Life is for the living,” my father used to say. I never really understood what he meant. Oh, I was familiar with death. I was never shielded from it and as a young teen, often accompanied my father on his occasional trips to the crematorium or graveyard. Later, on the way home, I would I…
