My eyes moisten
as she picks up
from the album
photos of a sunny childhood;
her nostalgia
touches my silent suffering
over her pain of a world
shattering again
I cannot bear
to see her hold on fast
to dreams past.
What a weak will
can do
with a little help
from friends?
To the parched earth
first showers
of summer
do very little
but mean so much.
I was lost
to myself
in wilderness
of dried dreams
with broken backs
and then
suddenly
a downpour
without warning
swept me
to the edge.
It’s clear
Blue
Sky
Now
All around.