Childhood is present & the past real. On waking, aching loss remains.
the view outside my window of blossoms, birds, bees & trees changes as do I.
Darkness came at 4. Now it comes at 5:40 and I come, rarely.
Together so long! Was it her vow to follow? Or was it his thong?
Born this April day: George who fights, the Bard who writes And then there is you.