~Nicole cloudy skies
dark windows
it had been raining
mom had taken us
out of school early
sitting on the couch
she sat down
in the afternoon haze
and began to cry
her face looked
as though it
would cave in
the fire screamed
in the small den
we cried
she encased us in her arms
holding us gently
comforted us
the words formed
her pale white lips
sinking in
he's dead
she finally said
closing her eyes
time stopped
death took over
everything bleak
12 years old
sitting with mom
my uncle dead
blackness everywhere
gloom clamping down
breathing slowly
wishing for sunlight
crying out
quickly dying inside
Written for my poetry class. A childhood memory that changed my life. My mother's brothed died of his alcoholism that cold day, and I will never forget the moment my mother told us.
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