I sit in the aftermath of a rotten moment
Bathed in the darkness of modern designs
Head perched in hands my mind fades back
And I move my head to your directionI could swallow domestic sadness on any other day
But on the eve of parental celebration I do struggle
The guest of honour…
The idea that I could make someone who has never met my mother feel empathy for her, years after her passing with just my words and sentences is such an honour to me
I guess I have a knack for this type-y word-y thing huh?
Domestic Poetry 