How many days has it been?
How many months?
How many years?
And yet it seems like only yesterday
that you were here
But time has sped by, raced ahead
to fill the empty spaces you left behind
The days have passed into months
The months have passed into years
Like small streams that run into rivers
and empty into the ocean
of our collective sorrows
And days accumulate into Time
And Time is a balm
like bread to the hungry
and water to the thirsty
Time nourishes our broken heart
By counting the days behind us
When finally, there are so many
We no longer feel the fresh pain
of the beginning of days
(c) Anita M. Ashworth 2011