Maria

Our years are fated….

Maria’s allotment was short

But no less special,

Each minute becoming pregnant

With what time would not allow,

Each new hour

Becoming the measuring stick

Of what would never occur

 

In a bed and a room

Where only wishes and dreams

Last

To never grow into memories,

Fate would not permit

Her life to become less precious,

As the deceptive future

Steals tomorrow from today

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

 

 

 

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