Christina A. Sharik


Well, that one hurt my heart strings and played havoc with my tears
to think you’ve had that memory and the pain of all those years;
his head still in your lap now, he still wears your shirt
But he’s at peace, and you are left, with everlasting hurt.

And some Stranger’s mother somewhere
knows someone held her son
how I wish that I could tell her
that you were the one.

A response to the poem, “Stranger” ~ ©Copyright April 12, 2002 by Anthony W. Pahl