She looked so happy
In the pictures her
Mother saved.
Lips curled into a
Jaded smile,
Arms crossed over a
Fading frame.
They couldn’t save her.
Not like she wanted
To be saved,
To be anything.
Monday morning,
Pulling weeds out of the
Giving soil.
What was the answer?
The answer to the
Question circling her
Only one left for
The road.
Not a last word or
A lasting breath.