A Morning*

Poet's Corner

I remember certain things,
how it was a Sunday in
April, and the daffodils were late.
How the sun was out and
poured through the bay windows
of the bedroom, happy and warm,
like nothing was wrong,
like everything was normal.

I can’t feel it now, the exhaustion
of that awful last night,
blessed by how the brain
softens certain things with time.

View original post 156 more words