through smudged glass
Fluid Dynamics

Someone's Mother

Today I learned of the death two years ago of someone I once knew,
barely and briefly.
I can see her face, almost, skimming over the surface of a previous decade
I remember her glasses and her long hair
and looking down at her as she spoke with quiet nervous energy;
hardened with confidence worn out
not yet worn away

I know she loved her girls, but I remember little else.

 

Maybe I'll revisit this later.

Her name was Michelle.

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