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Brother MAG
December 21, 2021
Sometimes I wonder what he is doing
I wonder where he is
If he’s sitting alone
At his Carolina apartment’s wooden table.
Maybe his cereal has gotten soggy
And his coffee is just a bit too bitter,
At least that's what I imagine.
I imagine he sits at his home phone,
Willing someone to call,
But nobody ever does.
He probably even keeps the photos
By his bed and when he sees them,
He cries.
I believe that is the hardest thing to imagine,
That he cries,
Just like I do.
© Alyssa B., Geneva, Ohio
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This poem is about my guilt and sadness over the loss of my ex-brother-in-law after a divorce and no longer seeing him. It's about the guilt I feel knowing he is alone.