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George Krokos Dec 2017
A business is known by all the resources it deploys
how it treats its customers with the staff it employs.
From "Simple Observations" ongoing writings since the early '90's.
Marie Christine Apr 2015
The water is deep and you are gone.
again. I should be used to it. I miss you most when it rains. The petrichor drowns your scent/laugh/touch/voice- the waves of missing you crush me with their weight. Sometimes, i drown. More often, i swim. rarely, i float.

"Sea to shining sea", I you, we are lonely. Never alone, they say we say, but always alone. cold nights and endless mornings. Sometimes, on calmer days i look back .
To when you were here. When we were we. I love you. To the depth of your ocean. with the weight of your ship. To wherever you are and back again. but.

You are not here. You are gone and the dark water rises to cover my mouth so you can't hear my scream. a small mercy.
The sun rises in the morning- it makes me cry.

Our stars- the same where you are as i am in our white house on our porch with my flag- are gone. It's harder to imagine you here. the sun is too bright to lend me your warmth.  And you are gone.

I eat lunch, see friends, miss you. Our house feels like my house. But a picture reminds me. It is shared by two. Sometimes.

sometimes  i can close my eyes
         and picture you here; sometimes i think of you and smile. Mostly, i wait for you. wonder about you. Rarely do i go a day without missing you, never do i go a second without thinking of you.
You come back to me like the waves. But you are not- The Same. I worry until you leave again. Then constantly, i worry still.

But this time when the rain falls, you drown. I don't. yet.
The waves proved too much and they knock "rap, rap,rap" on my tiny red door in the middle of the blackest night
they are sorry, they say.
so am I, I cry until i flood the earth, fills their oceans, drown my pain and their pathetic remorse, the flag they give me is soaked but it helps me stay afloat

This little white house is mine, not ours, and i can no longer swim.

— The End —