How Could I Know

July 22nd, 2009 by Linda Jenkinson
  • How could I know I would miss you so much
  • When missing you was such
  • An everyday thing?
  • How could I know I would long for your touch,
  • Perpetually so distant.
  • How could I know it would be so insistent?
  • At the break of mid-day,
  • I reach for a hand that is no longer there;
  • I strain to hear
  • The soft, firmness of a voice I so seldom heard;
  • To see emptiness filled by reading a word:
  • A name,
  • Your name,
  • Yet, not even yours.
  • How could I know in my fantasy
  • That good bye would be
  • A word so filled with reality,
  • A world so full of finality
  • How could I know?

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Unborn

June 8th, 2009 by Linda Jenkinson

unborn

  • I held my child in the palms of my hands.
  • Perfectly formed s/he seemed.
  • Little hands clenched in fists
  • Firmly grasping the tenuous thread of life,
  • Now broken.
  • A spirit flying swiftly by,
  • Touching me briefly and gently
  • With wings of a butterfly

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