We did not plan
aloud or far ahead
knowing how the envy of the gods
(as that of man) is
easily aroused. We dreaded
ruining our odds.
We did, however, dream
asleep, awake
of moving on to something more–
from milk to cream
dry bread to honey cake
an after better than before.
We meant more life
just down the road.
Until the universe arranged
an otherwise, a knife
to heart, one morning to explode.
You died, and all was changed.
Instead of dreaming now
alone I let life simply be
the in and out of breath.
I greet its beauty, but allow
no wishful thought, no certainty
except, of course, for death.
littleoldladywho.net 