How rarely all these few years, as
work keeps us aloof,
Or fares, or one thing or another,
Have we had days to spend
under our parents' roof:
Myself my sister, and my brother.
All five of us will die; to reckon
from the past
This flesh and blood is
unforgiving.
What's hard is that just one of us
will be the last
To bear it all and go on living.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 1:50 AM UTC
How rarely all these few years, as
work keeps us aloof,
Or fares, or one thing or another,
Have we had days to spend
under our parents' roof:
Myself my sister, and my brother.
All five of us will die; to reckon
from the past
This flesh and blood is
unforgiving.
What's hard is that just one of us
will be the last
To bear it all and go on living.
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