My mother did not see the ball drop
this year.
She did not hear me whisper
Happy New Year.
I'm here with her,
but there's no joy.
No renewal
no wishes
no promises
no kisses.
One of us is dying
and one of us will live,
but
both of us are changing.
One life stopping
no time left for living.
One life continuing
no strength left for fighting.
Are we any different?
Were we ever.
living...loving...writing
