The Color of Loss
The living room faced east and
The curtains she made were blue,
Thick, like a breeze wouldnÕt move them.
But you could still see
Through the fabric
If you looked.
Seventeen is too young, they said
For a girl to lose her mother.
Still, I could tell some of them at least
Thought there would be something
In the end
Something like meaning
But I thought that was there all along
The poetry, I mean.
The living room faced east
And the rising sun
In a pale blue glow.
© Heather Bell Adams
Bio: Heather Bell Adams lives in lives in Raleigh, North Carolina with her husband and their nine-year old son. She has published short and flash fiction in addition to non-fiction articles and essays.