The day was cold and bitter. The school day tiring and slow, in the snowy winds of the fog. The scene of flashing lights, the scene of such panic greeting my safe return for one. Feet run to the door as the news set in, and tears fill the bucket. The 4th of December, yearning for conclusion and comfort. Not one tear was shed by the givers of life that had made him but laughter and joy. Tis not a bad soul, but unfortunate. The days grew shorter, but in a misconception they grew longer in time. Just two months felt like 2 years. The presents detached, cold and bitter holidays. Everything stays the same in the house, the rotted blood still seeps on the floor as the body removed. To remind the forgotten of the lost of a soul, and yet everything changed. The smell of nicotine and incense smoke no longer in the house, tis not a home in the eyes of the womb.  Another year closer to 18, a birthday without a father. and a birthday with no cake. The furrow of the eyebrows and foul language oh how i miss. tears were not shared by anyone but the child and the lost lenore. Years before were  as delicate as a feather and at times as deep as a whale call. The smiles of bloodline, the sun and engines running and roaring. The beer filled mouth, the gentle laughs and the color of his bandana, once pieces of a puzzle  that was left untouched. Grief is here, once more. Whered all the time go?