I took my mum’s hand, malformed, pitiless,
In her age that guarantees no renewal.
She looks at me, as I bury my face in the
Crux of her arm. Briefly wanting to scour
this fleeting moment upon infinity.
She turns and looks out the window,
The heart can only break so many times
(at least that’s what I thought).
I’m sorry mum. I love you.
The silence that follows is complete.