When Left Alone
by
In the ache of the heart,
In the back of a memory,
There is a solid mass.
In the broad light of day
The mass is but a fading bruise.
But in the wee hours
The mass sustains.
Who’s to say what is real
And what is reinvented?
When all that matters
Is who we’ve become.
And that we are each
Our own separateness.
I am stumbling this..
Kim’s last blog post..The post I said I would not do, but did anyway