Francine

Times that brought her, a yellow light of feasting, she dreams of autumn, let others condone, that passing disease, of a broken home, more than any daughter, she'll do what's needed, forging her laughter, a shiny stone, she stands by the sea, swears she'll never atone, love seeps on the bend, it reaches her knees, like broken water, for matters gone, she knows what she’s leaving, some hoped for dawn, fixated or in prayer, she cries when released, wonders if anyone cares, s it isn't that easy.