The bunk bed slept on by small kids
of two generations,
scarred and wobbly
and plastered with stickers
Letters from my mom--sad ones
detailing her decline
A plant from a funeral
My majorette jacket
from proud, high-stepping days
The view ahead is astonishing,
and I can't scale the peak
if I keep glancing back wistfully
into the green valley.
Also, there's that
pillar-of-salt risk.
I'll just keep moving,
lighter now.
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Be always safe,
Karen
Edwin