She,
felt,
you first.

Then you knew her long enough
to reach the age she was
when first,
she,
met,
you.

And then some!

And in those heart beats,
grew your comradeship of blood.

Genes groom us to
feel,
as Family Feels.

(Never mind Thinks!
Our thoughts are our own
and are owed no resonation
in the minds of our Dear Ones)

But
in the sensing of hearts,
we are,
one.
And while
we age

we meld.

Then,
the death of one leaves
vacancy
in the other,

and that space is never filled.

Yes!
Yes!
I know!
I know!
There abides our
desperate,
much clutched faith in an,

“Again”.

Perhaps…

But faith is unsubstantiated air,

and

Mother was flesh and blood.

So,
never will tears
be dried,
completely,
nor the rend mended.

Only remembered.

Always,

remembered.