Saturday, March 19, 2011

rise like bread

Find joy in their joy,
Their marital bliss.
It is not an accusation.

Live for now, not then,
Or them--
Those make-believe children
You'd love if you could.

Let the ache for that life just sit,
Not to harden you like concrete
But to rise like bread
Into soft, domestic reality
You'll love, and nurture, and share.

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