Wednesday, August 22, 2007


Oh, I see them twirl,
And smile and giggle,
Their laughter, muted and respectful
I am a merry widow,
who bereavement becomes.

It was my choice
To send them away
Their feet damply pressing against
The upturned earth.
But though I linger,
I turn away.

Note in passing
That as they march forward
Each step is lighter than the next,
Building to a crescendo.
A chorus.

The sun shines.
A glorious morning,
As will be the next.

Poem submitted by Alfred Cheng, emergency medicine resident in New York City

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