An epiphany stung
My mind in the face
Of a crying child,
Not screaming but
Letting tears fall
Unhindered from
Questioning eyes -
In that they so
Resembled the tears
Streaming through the
Withered wrinkles of
An old man gingerly
Placing flowers on
A mound of earth.
Time changes our
Appearance though
Little else;
Those questions we
Long most severely
For the answers to,
Even the wisdom
Of age cannot
Answer nor lend any
Solution for but to cry
As frustrated children:
Loss is never understood.

 

" 'Loss' is a product of one of ElizabethÕs spare time activities. Others include drawing and writing music."