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Poetry

(fôrt-trĕs)

Powerless

Sitting alone at my desk,
Soft light warm against my face,
Strand of long rusty hair resting on my breast pocket
beside the dry tears:
A gentle reminder of my love, of her sorrow.

What could I do to comfort her?
How could I ease her pain?

All I could do was hold her -- reassure her;
All I could do was listen and try to bear her up.

She leaned her weary head against my breast.
I cupped her tear-drenched cheek beside my heart
And searched in vain for just the words to say.

How I wish I could do more...
How I wish I could end her pain...
How I wish I could rectify her world.

Background image from MorgueFile.