Poem: None of it was said

None of it was said

or will be said
and you tried
but could not
and now 
it is over
and gone
and done
and there are questions
and no one has answers
and it is the least
of all the things,
is nothing much,
is just what you said,
what you tried to say
the little bit
you could say anything,
and it is not what is impotant.
It was nothing significant,
I know that, was not advice
or a great secret,
I know that is true,
but I do wonder.
It is years ago, now,
and I think about it
what I would call
a fair amount,
with regularity, at least.
It is not all I think about,
is not always what comes to me
when I am missing you
or considering your absence,
but it is there.
is a question
I wish could be resolved.
I wonder if that itself is the reason
or if it is just
another part of my grief.
Probably, it is a bit of both.

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