NaPoWriMo 7 – A Mother Wonders

This is his birthday.
He is an adult, of age.
What am I to do?

NaPoWriMo 8 – ottava rima

Remember me when you are gone away,
for you’re the one who goes, while I must bide.
Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to stay;
You’ve things to do, and I still have my pride.
If you should think of it, call me some day —
Don’t promise; then it won’t seem that you lied.
And if your road should lead you back to me,
I’ll probably still be here…probably.

NaPoWriMo 9 – Vanished

Coffee, half-finished,
cold; back door standing open
to the summer night.