I miss this blog. And its people. Perhaps it's time to close shop and finally face the fact that heydays are gone.
She will remember how every evening
her father helped her paint, while
Mumma prepared her favorite dishes
Just as her father remembers her exuberant
voice, returning from school
with yet another prized drawing.
Unable even to see her precious face,
he lamented the darkness in his life
It was Rainbows in the Sky
they always or never drew together.