Standing in the rain beside the grave
I think on you old friend. You gave
Your smile to me just a week ago,
And told me how the weeks race by and flow
Into a river rushing to the sea,
But you were working for a century
That spread ahead, a road with many stops
For splendid palaces and farms with crops
And children playing safe beside the road.
On through the century you strongly strode,
Building and planning and blending old and new,
New laws to save us, old to keep us true,
Eyes wide alert and ears to hear the sounds
Of singing, mourning, loving, free and bound.
Bricks are your legacy for some, the schools, the banks,
But more than these your wisdom really flanks
The paths we take, and we shall miss you friend,
Words clearly heard you told: “Road without bend.”
With love in memory of Sidney Eisenshtat, architect and friend.
After the leviah