This spring

Blossom from my window
love on my laptop yet the past
lingers like a sour odour
in the corridors of memory.

Children easily made lay
crucified in the maze
of your illness your
subtle genius that tells us all

just how to be.

This spring brings
no news of an acquittal
only inexorable life dancing
in the stream of tomorrow

Yes, yesterday lingers
blighting all it touches
you rewrite our life in braille
I have no fingers to read you

only watch the blossom fade
hoping for warmer times.

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