This winter I lost
my nest egg,
our 90-year-old maple
whose tired roots surrendered to relentless storms,
my patience with slumdog renters,
a gazillion arguments,
all of my geraniums,
gallons of tears.
such as mean husbands,
a smelly crummy nasty cigarette habit
tend to be semi-sweet, half and half, not so bad.
Others hurt like vinegar in a fresh wound.
poisoning parts of your heart
indefinitely, but who said forever?
April 20, 2009