Gwen’s laughter rings across the lawn
When half the day has almost gone,
But sometimes her bright colors hide
The emptiness inside
Gwen’s smile’s broken many hearts;
Trends follow from her thoughtless arts,
But sometimes sudden choices show
The her we’ll never know
For when bright colors stop and hold,
The bright turns dark, the warm turns cold,
And Gwen is weighted down with care
Wishing her mom
Could still
Be there
To share is human:
You could have been writing my story.
Poignant…thanks.