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Dec 2019
Mourning in the Morning

From the comfort of solace, I once dreaded
Under the warmth akin to Mother’s womb
Where peeking out submits to the shivers
As frigid air bites at my skin
My feet fear the season’s floor
Taunting the neck of traveling goosebumps
The Sun has yet to peak and spread her light  
I yearn to crawl back under yards of soothing fabric
Stitched together so ceremoniously
Time stood still as memories
Filled the room with the striving laborious
Struggle to stay alive while the needle ******
With every stitch and threads break
As loss of love seeks the safe journey home
written after a visit to a recent widow.
Written by
Ellen Beener
55
 
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