The day my father died
Was a cold day in winter
Brittle
Gray
Unyielding
Like a fast approaching storm
We shored against
With some small hope
But the sky leaned in
And took him
I held his hand
'til it went cold
And still I couldn’t leave
There was a certain peace
But not enough
To let him make his way
Alone




Sara Mathews     March 2017