#91

 "Aww Bamm" you yell,

and I giggle a bit,

until you yell "Aw Tchit."

You know we're doing our best,

but you know better cusswords than

many of the 11-year-olds I spend more time with.

#90

 If simply breath can recompense

and words effect "forgive,"

then may my heart beat chant "redeemed"

and lungs exhale, "go live."

#89

 I just need the space, the time to cry

until I can weep no more

but it feels the tears refuse to dry

and well eternally, a spring inside.

Sometime soon, in that brighter timeline,

we welcome another little Loved One

into the family of those who breathe.

And sometime soon, in this reality, instead

I reconcile the grief prevailing

with love.

Love I once knew to be unfailing.

Love I cling to in darkness, still

waiting for dawn to breathe anew.