In the distance I hear soft music on the radio. The air is still and silence holds us In her arms. Quiet Sunday morning Rode past the field where geese rested Looking from far away Like a flock of pigeons In the sun. See so many different kinds of brick, Angles of rooftops,buildings haphazardly Added to before planning laws. I sit and watch the people pass, Some happy,one weeping though she assured me It's merely an allergy; An allergy to loss? Yes,I'm allergic to loss. Loss makes my eyes water and my nose run. Where does all that water come from? Pass me your handerchief,mine is a ladies Since men must work and women weep Surely we should have the biggest hankies? Men can wipe their nose on their sleeve As long as they are not wearing their hearts there! Or they might consider sharing hankies. How kind;for at times, almost, Every one weeps.