A year ends under a monstrous wave.
Eleven countries bury their dead, and
Cry for the hopelessness of what is.
Water recedes, spitting out what once was
We are the sandwich generation
Taking the happy and the sad
Snap shots of moments we treasure
We tuck them neatly
The picture of a three year old
Sat proudly in the hall.
A smile of pure innocence,
Her world was safe and small.