The theft

Impossible.
Something so large,
large, important...
nay, NECESSARY!
stolen from right under my...

When was it taken? To where? And, how?
Does another possess it now?

How will 
I go on 
without it?

What makes the child so blissfully happy?
At times, even ecstatic.
Heaving with life and breadth.
A thousand opioids in one single, heaving bellow.

And, to know that it exists 
(existed)
now no longer for me.
No longer mine!

To have lost something I never knew was mine.
What pleasures evade me now?


Copyright ©2006 John Wesley Lampe