Why did I lose my mother, who was my true life and soul?
Why did I have to sell her things, they were a lifetime's goal?
Why did I lose my grandson I was raising as my own?
Why does my son make poor choices, why won't he just come home?
Why must old age rob beauty, and why cloud the sharpest minds?
Why has the world turned such a mess, why evil eclipse kind?
Yet why are there golden sunsets to grace a dying day?
Why are there waves of salted seas to soothe our weary way?
Why are puppies filled with love, and why lick away our tears?
Why does the innocence of youth resound across the years?
Why do dear friends show up in time and share each other's woes?
Why do heroes still exist to defend us from our foes?
There aren't always quick answers, no prevailing sentiment,
But all around we see God's grace, pure living testament.
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Author Notes
This is definitely not a Sonnet, but a borrowed a bit from the form.
Just one of those days when I wanted to ask a few questions, and listen with my heart for answers.
Every have one of those days?
The photo is of my 4-year old granddaughter, Eliza Jane, who has to go to daycare in a mask.
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