The Way It Changes

I am not writing so many 

sad poems any more.

Four years and four months

have passed since your passing;

I am adjusting. I would even say

my life is pleasant, I have learned

contentment. 

Or perhaps it’s all gone underground.

I’m bingeing on vampire movies 

and TV series, over and over

exploring death, dying, afterlife, 

immortality, and what to do 

with love when the loved one’s gone.

How to keep it / them?

Escapist, I've told myself. But

now I think, It’s just the way

it changes. And Leonard too

has left us, like so many.

They are changing constantly,

the shoreline and the sea

that make my life.

I read, I play with my cat,

I make more poems, 

I meet my friends 

for coffee and chat,

there are family visits.

Still, obsessively, I contemplate
undying passion, resurrection.

Prompted, in part, by Midweek Motif ~ Change at Poets United