Emma

Photo by Jakub Kriz on Unsplash

Too early — not yet four.

Numbing thoughts of final days won’t leave.
I have no purpose, not found sense,
no guard against this grief.

Nothing happens for a reason — but I gave it one — or two,
perhaps more while I’m lost and left to be.

There are no questions and no banter.
I relive your sparkle, unhampered joy,
the…