Life is pretty grievous

Life is pretty grievous at times. 

Can feel as if we are stranded on an island, 

after our inextirpable ship has been swallowed by the sea, viciously. 

We must wait out the storm, 

sometimes loosing all- including ourselves.

But if we could choose one tangible item to keep with us,

what we choose? 

Our phones?

Favorite blanket?

My answer is simple: my husband. 

Through every storm, every dark cloud, or rocky waves, 

he has been by myside, holding my hand, 

and caressing my heart, protecting my body & inspiring my mind.



This poem is about: 
My family


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