birds write poems too

I cried and so did they.
They wept for me but didn't know how to respond physically.
I'd just told my children  I'd been diagnosed with depression.
They are clever kids and knew what depression was or at least what the dictionary said it looked like.
But here it was , standing before them, in the guise of a near sixty year old, fit as a fiddle father.
It was my wife,their mother who found the right thing to say...."give your father a hug".

And so began the journey, this time I had three angels watching over me, not saying much but by their vigilance, saying everything.

It's been some time since that evening and through the absolute agony of a tortured mind, I have emerged and morphed into a better creature, not a perfect one ,just a better one.

If you ask how I survived,and many don't,I will tell you but not right now.Aubades are forming and I need to be quiet so they stay longer.