Sadness steals through
lost and  lingering days,
holding hands with hope
and stepping in the prints
which pain has left behind,
in glistening, darkened soil,
gingerly, neatly, and forgetfully
as it makes its steady way
through memory and time;
wanting only to find a path
beyond the hurting and the
helpless, hindered, holding
to what was and is no more.


About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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