I suppose that
'In a hundred years,
No one will know the difference.'
At least,
That's what my mother says.
No one will know?
No one re-experience this,
This quiet, desperation.
Or tearful journey through circumstance?
I don't know.
Oh, she is right, I'm sure.
But there has to be some purpose
In tears and would-be adoration,
Else I may, can, should
Cease breathing precious air.
Susan J. Skinner
copyright 2011/ all rights reserved
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