the breakfast we never ate...
our bed still warm
waiting for the spoons to return

a voice  
     your little voice…

the table’s weight crashes to the ground…

none of this will return to what it  once was

your small tears can not fix this broken bowl

one song on repeat  

at least its a good one i think…

new bowls
other things to fill them...

how soon we have forgotten  
the bed that wasn’t ready to let us go

tears and laughter
we are broken

our day has just begun.