Ache

such an ache
such a hole
a dried-up lake
a shriveled soul

more than a year
I’m still so broken
so far, so near
more grief unspoken

I play my roles
around the pain
pay the tolls
the loss, the gain

on a darker day —
the cruelest ploy:
I’ll never play
with my little boy

sometimes I cry
today I scream
it’s not fair! and, why?!
please let this be a dream

the calendar on the wall
marks days I thought would be:
a smile, a crawl, a step, a fall
his papa and sister, him and me.
now all of that is not at all
a mocking reverie