For Chloe

Grief is weird.  It is

different every time.

I’m not crying anymore.

I’m just tired

And it feels like the color has drained from the day.

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Chloe (Biscuit/ Biz): April 2005-July 2017

 

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The Visiting Virus

Cranky poetry for the daily prompt, by a sick person…

 

The Virus: part 1

Go ahead, wash your hands,

It’s too late…

Sucker!

 

The Virus: part II

Mountain of tissues,

In the can by the bed

Your nose is so raw, 

A lovely shade, “wino red.”

viruses

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Visiting Virus: A Haiku

Take your aspirin

Drink your hot tea, don’t mind me

I’ll just hang out here

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Red1 & Red2

A bleak day, cold winter wind,

And a single cardinal on a nude black branch,

The only color in a washed out day,

Brilliant and vital

As a drop of blood.

(2/23)

 

drop

 

 

 

 

 

Saw him again today,

Him or one just like him.

He saw me seeing him,

And he sang a little song,

Isn’t it strange that the day is

Wet and gray again?

Maybe he’s like me, and he

Likes it that way.(2/26)

RED1

* I wasn’t sure about publishing the initial poem…but then I saw him again today.  I thought he’d fly away when i went in to get my camera, but he was still there.  Regrettably, his vibrant color didn’t really come through in this pic.