Maria

Our years are fated….
Maria’s allotment was short
But no less special,
Each minute becoming pregnant
With what time would not allow,
Each new hour
Becoming the measuring stick
Of what would never occur

In a bed and a room
Where only wishes and dreams
Last
To never grow into memories,
Fate would not permit
Her life to become less precious,
As the deceptive future
Steals tomorrow from today

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)