I give their love to my son, his flower blooms in heady profusion for sunny summer days ahead. The worst of times. Dicken's fiction, echoes of reality. The sun shines in our hearts, we smile. Our loved ones die, tears track our cheeks.
Life is a transitory existence, blue skies turn to stormy nights, laughter to tears in grief's arms.
The rocks of life block our path, we stumble forward on bloody feet. Time will heal like a blister on a wound. The pain remains in darkened rooms while we abide in lonely solitude. Life and death fight shadow wars on the walls of our minds. Memories remain of those we love, tears hidden under laughter's veil fleeing Prozac's threat of oblivion.