Your dove has completed its’ flight,
Landing on your shoulder,
Bringing you peace at last.
I empty the contents of a magical days pocket.
Keys, change, and the smooth white stone
you picked up on the beach and gave to me.
Trying To Figure Out Who I Am Now, With You So Nearly Gone.
You lay in your hospital bed, pale and listless,
with the poppies and delphiniums brightly beaming life
on the nightstand beside the bed.
Tonight I Am Sad.
Innocent young girls were shot to death in their schoolhouse.
Innocent people have enemies they know not of.
America has enemies.
I am getting old.
It’s true, too true, that I can’t reach out and touch you now.
You are in another land, a world away, or more than one I think.
And yet I feel your warm presence today, and the peace you carried with you.
I wish I had shared more with you when there was time. Just little things, like butterflies, and miners lettuce, and smooth white stones, but I did not, I could not, being myself,