change, Coping, Loss, Love, Regret

HOW FAR

In the hills of Sierra de los Padres
A bus slid off – a muddy roadway
And rolled and rolled without a skid
And left a kid – alone – on Sunday

She drove from church with laughing niños
And dropped them off – uno por uno
While el hijo stayed home and waited with papá
In the llora of rain on the edge of Negro

Madre de mi amor

I now live north with frozen rain
Draw my bow – slow – from Domingo’s pain
When I was young – and roads – húmedo
Madre de mi amor

How far must I go

For dVerse Poets Pub Open Mic Night

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