My sister, her husband, their young children
Left us to walk into the night one day.
We still don’t know the why, or even when.
Their new car was found with his weekly pay
On the seat with his cell and the kids’ toys.
But we still don’t know why they ran away.
We shout for the safety of their three boys.
For my young sister, the sweet mourning dove.
We still have no clue in spite of our noise.
We pray, but receive no hope from above.
Only a postcard, “From Russia with Love”.
(Written for dVersePoets: “Form for All–Terza Rima and the Terza Rima Sonnet”. May 09, 2013.)