Good Days, Bad Days

Story-Poem

Photo by Greta Schölderle Møller on Unsplash

She picks
a few pink roses
from the garden
and puts them
in a crystal vase
on the dining table.
I fry the hamburgers
and prepare
the tossed salad
for our lunch.
Sometimes our days
pass without tears
or arguments about
the death of our son
or my failure
to save him
from the demons
that raped his soul.
Even God chooses
not to visit when
our hearts are crying.