"March", need I saw more? Yes, this too is from 2009

A poem written about the month of March written about my life.

Another non-exclusive poem. Leave a comment under the poem at the link below if you wish.


http://voices.yahoo.com/march-2853467.html?cat=10

March

So many times we let things slide.
Never really wanting to think or decide.

The March winds come rushing in.
Just as we remember once we were thin.



Well maybe we still are.
It is but a word, that needed a place to stay. Now go get the car.



Yesterday, March was the most horrible month for me.
For at 16, was a horror given to me, with glee.

Yesterday, March was a horrible month for me.

Because my baby did die, before even him, I would see.



A baby boy, the nurse said.
But he was dead.



Years passed.
This pain it would not last.



Or so it was assumed.
But as life often does, the pain resumed.



The harshness of March would soon be lost.
For my oldest son, his life, a drunk would take for no cause.

The gentle easy memories of May.

Now have faded that day.



For you see, my oldest son of eighteen, lay dead.
The harshness of March, gave way now the month of May lies ahead.



Too soon, once again death came taking away a child.
The heart it was broken, for the driver did drive wild.

One child gone before the light of day.

Another child taken while walking along the roadway.



So many heart breaks, so many trials.
When for me, will the Master call.



Strolling along through this world, the tears have dried.
I no longer cry. But for you still the heart has cried.

When will this end.

Who will our son's memory defend.



Why has the driver not yet shed a tear?
Why is the driver still driving with no fear?



Our son he is dead.
This is sad, but it is true. And that is all that can be said.



When I die, who will cry.
Is there any reason left for this life to try.

To live or to die.

Will it matter if I die?
Who would cry?

My son he has died.

Alone and no one heard his last cry.



The bleeding heart.
Soon will depart.

Because I no longer cry.

Soon it is I who will die.



Will for me you cry?