Phil Elverum image via: lush retina
Father said, “You’re growing,” and divided their bedroom with a wall.
Gone were the nights Mari’s songs soothed Lucas to sleep. Lights on,
he cried under covers.
She tucked her feet into the folds of an afghan and sat by her window
that night in the dark, singing softly to the moon, hoping Lucas heard.
MLydiaM ~ August 2011
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