Para Ú. C. C., en la muerte de su padre
El sol decae
y torna el horizonte
anaranjado.
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Ardes, sed. ¡Ra!
Para Ú. C. C., en la muerte de su padre
El sol decae
y torna el horizonte
anaranjado.
El bachiller Sialer 
Life insists on going on, even when we are mired in grief over a great loss. My late father died shortly after the U.S. Thanksgiving holiday. I noticed the holiday lights and the snow much more vividly than I ever had before. «Painfully beautiful» is the term that I used to describe my feelings about it.
I’m visiting from the NaPoWriMo list. My team’s site is Poetry of the Netherworld.
I apologize, but my abilities with Spanish are terrible. I can read it, but don’t feel confident enough to try replying in my own words. I’d probably end up saying something ridiculous.
Not at all, Tempest. Thank you. I’ll pay attention to your group.