The picture above popped up in my memory feed today on Facebook. Already feeling out of sorts, this added fuel to my sad fire. But it also was fuel for my poem today.The prompt was “thought” . So, I thought, as if I wasn’t already thinking, about how long and how short seven years are.
Thoughts on Seven Years seven years ago we moved to a new state it was not our choice but that’s okay and though there is such a thing called the seven years war that’s not what we fought in fact, many of those seven years were good ones years of plenty like in Joseph’s dream and Joseph's life but years of plenty soon became lean years, rawboned and grievous though we enjoyed hiking through the beauty of fall colors and a few snow-angel winter snows and spring on the back porch there was much loss the demise of three parents while we were away longing to be with them even though we often languished in the city where we tried so hard to belong we were together we finally migrated back home but one month later you left for your eternal home and I try not to wither away without you