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The Store Remains

Updated on November 8, 2017

Holding mother’s hand,

the groceries fill the cart.

A whirl of lights and cans,

to home with all my heart.

A slow and wishful wanting,

for time to set alight!

Mother squeezing bread now, jaunting,

all the night.

Noon comes fast, then supper,

no longer do I cry.

I am old and upper.

A classman kind of guy.

Her face does wake the sunrise,

and want of dreams do speak.

I maintain the disguise,

from mother do I sneak.

A slip along the dark road,

as weeks do mourn their their gray,

No sooner comes the face aglow,

No time to speed the day.

Comes the meeting wonder

The store today, so high.

She quickens-up her candor,

and never asks me why.

Adjoined, our hearts together

we ride the lonely nights.

Of candle, wine and feather,

from store's collect delights.

Babes born in warmth and laughter;

though pained with love at night.

The store becomes the master;

and her and I lose sight.

The sun dims low and weakens,

but something heats the flame.

A love that only thickens,

and never lays the blame.

Renewed again, as children,

have made their way in life

Shop we do like pilgrims,

Her job is now, midwife.

Then the butcher takes her,

stabs her with that knife.

I blind myself with liquor,

And now I've taken life.

© 2017 Jack Shorebird


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