My sister and I have noticed some changes in our father.
Whenever we talk to him about ‘old times’ (instead of just sitting there staring vacantly out the window) his eyes fill with tears. He’s not totally crying but something is definitely going on.
We wonder what’s really going through his mind?
It was this thought and some help from the band “Tears for Fears” that are responsible for the inspiration behind this post.
I didn’t plan on posting tonight but sometimes you just have to let some of your writing go.
the Size of Sorrow
Stain my mimeographed life
Wondering if today is some strange and future tomorrow
Time meanders away
some perpetual 36-hour day
But what is the size of sorrow?
a Fool on the hill
a sad silhouette of your absence
what remains breaks the heart of the borrow
Tomorrow is near
like an invisible tear
I’m wondering what is the size of your sorrow?