This is the time of year I miss them most
Songs, decorating, laughter, and food are whispers of their ghosts
I do my best but it becomes harder each year
To maintain hope and happiness and cheer
Feeling alone, feeling weak
The future can feel pretty bleak
Part of me says, "Get over it." But I never will be
It doesn't go away because I am older or change company
'Tis the season, or so they say
Sometimes I wish it would all go away.
It's a long, hard battle I fight
During times of celebration and light
Yet an ember glows within my heart
That know you are gone but not where to start
How to let that spark melt my heart of ice
It's protection layered times thrice
So the joy of living and flourish again
And heal all of this pain,
About the Creator
KAT Hunt
I grew up in a small town in Oregon. In 2nd grade (circa 1984), I was entered into a poetry contest. I won 3rd place and was awarded a small check and a certificate signed by President George Bush Sr. I have been writing ever since.
Even with the Lantern
Our forefathers worked meticulously in the still of the night, beneath the African sky, with extraordinary desires. In obscurity, our parents struggled for their privileges while following their dreams, involving lights as their reference points.
By VOPNU, Adomale Monday2 days ago in Poets
I AM
This is not who I thought I would be. Before my family was captured and forced into slavery, I had aspirations of becoming a wealthy business owner or possibly a scholar and philosopher. Becoming a warrior was the furthest thing from my mind. Unfortunately, our Roman conquerors had other plans.
By Mark Gagnon4 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.