Clyde’s Grief

He doesn’t cry, or talk it out
but sometimes writes, when feelings
are too deep to speak
and tears too dammed to spill

His mother died, he did not cry
and his pen could find no words
but he worked in her backyard
pruned her favorite tree…nearly to death

An inner urging pushed him
to force new life if he could
his life apart from hers
no matter what the cost

Then with his writer’s hands
pretending to be tough
he chopped the fallen branches
into bits and buried them

put them to rest in her yard
He did not cry, but began to write

© Jean E. Taddonio

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About geniecan

Born and raised in " America's finest City" received BS degree in nursing years ago... main career besides wife and motherhood ( and now a grandma)was as a hospice RN for 18 years...Take great joy in finding the good in all things and believing that " No Thing is Ordinary" the title of my blog. I am working on a children's picture book story named R-Qu.. a rock falls of his mountain. Writing poetry is one of my happiest things to do. Yoga, water aerobics,, gym exercise and walking our wheaton terrior, Finley, with my husband Jim are favorite things...oh yes...singing in the choir at Church and recognizing God as #1... are most important... I also have a home based business with magnetic and far intra red health care products..peace to all who read this, Love, Jeane
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