and the money is gone
and momma is worn down.
the closet is filled with umbrellas
and frayed scarves
that smell like you.
the rain falls on the shudders
and this old house creaks,
the wood taken over by arthritis.
I miss what this used to be;
Sunday morning pancakes
and casual "I love you's".
but now everything is grey.
the sunshine is gone
and this grey is eternal.
oh how I wish
the grey would leave
and the sunshine
would come back.
