Below the Surface

When a vast spectrum of gray

washes across the morning


when the frank, 



 into a white glow

shimmering along 

the rolling surface;


you are living under

a sorrow

too big to forget

even for minutes;

when the smiling face you

wear in the world provides a little


then it feels like 

the seventy-pound backpack

you’ve toted for months 

was temporarily lifted

by a true friend

and you can 


You can bear 

to see what is

below the surface.


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