Just a Question

I asked “How are you?” and I meant it too.
You sensed sincerity and looked concerned,
as if I had suspicions maybe you
should be upset about, as if I learned
some fact of disadvantage. That’s untrue.
It’s just that I’m aware how often burned
you are, deservedly, by compound stress,
an overload so likely to depress.

This entry was posted in Family, Personality, Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a comment