December 27

The house.
Too quiet.
No musical sounds from toys.
No crying for bottles,
Or giggling at silly words,
No gleeful laughing.
No grand children.
No sons.
No women who complete them.
Wonderful sons now men.
"Good-bye, Mom!"
He said.

Weren't they just children?
Wasn't I?
Aunt Lucy Jane died
Nine days before Christmas.

Be still and know that I am God. Ps 46:10

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