How was your day,
Not having a good day:
Someone else’s lexicon.
One day follows another.
He thinks of bad days,
When his father died,
Losing his job:
You land on your feet,
It all works out.
Days and years merging,
A life:
Was it just last Thanksgiving
That she left…
Lives,
Why he does not require
Going back to Quoddy Head,
Chooses to remember that blue day
In August of ’85.
One day follows another,
One year then the next.
He tries not to use
Words like segue.

editors note: Grief is an ever present hole; does not shrink with days, only grows more familiar.  – mh clay