Grief stains like red wine spilt
on a white linen shirt.
Loss calculated by
what-ifs and almost-weres.
Eternity, a place
of safe conjecture
for those still running
from Marathon.
A warmth that brings
no comfort
begets a blossoming flower
that endures a lifetime.
A mountain-top in Winter,
A desert in Summer,
Branches in Fall.
Spring…
when?
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