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Trauma of losing a spouse by using the word gray. |
| Father's death was a gray day And seventy at the time My mother just stayed inside With gray thoughts filling her mind. In constant dialogue with Her gray heart telling mother, "You are wasting precious Time lost to a gray future". She stood right up and declared, "I will stop feeling tormented And will not allow to fade Away my happy moments". With planning out the window She preferred to be surprised No bad gray-hair days for her Gray days were a compromise. For mom gray was a color Not to be aged out of fun Gray should not make you feel old Thinking gray was the new young. And slow times for an elder Out the door feeling renewed Spontaneous was her way Gray-hair in motion her view. My mother passed on last week Exactly on her birthday She had no gray memories Just the beauty of each day. |