ten thirty p.m.
the messages come in
we can all morn now.
A candle is lit.
poems and tissue are found.
These are lonely friends.
I'm glad the pain's stopped,
for her at least, but I know...
we'll feel its echo's.
I'll lean on her love,
I'll lean on her tenacity,
her grit and gumption.
From the other side,
she cradles us in her arms,
want or not, she is there.
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