Copyright (C) 2002 by L.M. Wong
spout of the fount when ripeness blooms. 8>)
I had long anticipated this parting. I had wept in anticipation of this. Intense pain coiled around refusal and vexation, caused by anger that it should pass so soon. To heave our chests with sobs, wail ourselves hoarse, sap breath of air are futile. Part we must.
I cannot offer tears now. I had wept in anticipation of this. Senses stay with me as I go about matter-of-factly. But sorrow is real. Whoever who has emotions and compassion will surely feel the tight knot on heartstrings in times of grief. Part we must.
Mourning lasts not forever. Speak not of regret. Seek joys shared. Extricate the most comely or comical picture of the departed from recesses of recall or from the picture archive.
Caress those treasured tokens. Care for them well. Mortality had usurped and carried them across the walls while those living, are moored here still. 8>)
AFTER THE HURT
We wince, grimace,
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