Our years are fated…
Maria’s allotment was short
But no less special
Each moment becoming pregnant
With what time would not allow
Each new hour
The measuring stick
 Of what would never occur

In a bed and a room
Where only wishes and dreams
Last
To never grow into memories
Fate would not permit
Her life to become less precious
As the deceptive future
  —steals tomorrow from today

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)