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Not

a brother's brother

more so the first one to recover

Death

a not so sound knock at a locked

door

never meant to be opened

a waste

such an unnecessary disregard to

life

challenge

crawls through the tired blood

like a slow yet tempered disease

breaking down the will of the

embittered body as it poisons the

mind

like close knit families who mean

all too well

I am not there so instead I write

of happier times and one's yet to come

maybe a daughter yet perhaps a son

their very possible future lives carry

me out of this darkened stupor that

some choose to label as depression..........

(Jan. 30, 1994 pm)