It struck me — every Day —
The Lightning was as new
As if the Cloud that instant slit
And let the Fire through —
It burned Me — in the Night —
It Blistered to My Dream —
It sickened fresh upon my sight —
With every Morn that came —
I though that Storm — was brief —
The Maddest — quickest by —
But Nature lost the Date of This —
And left it in the Sky —
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Bad memories haunt us.
The author speaks of grieving the loss of a close and dear friend. A loss that was sudden and still seethes within her soul. Every day she looks for them, every day she is disappointed to find they are not there.
The author speaks of grieving the loss of a close and dear friend. A loss that was sudden and still seethes within her soul. Every day she looks for them, every day she is disappointed to find they are not there.