7.9.17
Haunting, your voice,
sadder
than it’s ever been,
haunted,
flushed away in the riptide of distance,
far away & miserable,
faint, your sad sad voice,
Mother. How I miss
when you were joyful, and
cringe that you won’t be
again.
.
.
mired in tragedy unknowable.
Written at 9:29 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA.
