Days come and go like
people on a Ferris wheel.
Round and round,
up and down,
beating their heads side to
side like a tambourine
on a cruise ship;
sailing along
waiting for an iceberg
or something much cooler to hit it,
so they have something to talk about.
Far and wide; the great sea.
It seems so small and insecure compared
to everyone else's, and in the end we
all ripple and break in different ways.
No trickle of water holds the
same bubbles nor the same
shells but people say
blood is thicker than water
but even then...blood drains
leaving behind a coffee stain of memories
that you'd try to tell grandchildren before
your untimely death on the operating table.
"Don't forget that I drew the heart on the tree
in the park, the one with the X and O after it!"
They nod, uninterested, only after your funeral
they truly feel famished.
All the water in the world couldn't soothe their
burning, aching hearts;
'Grandma, come home...
Please...
I miss you.'