[i have only now been able to post this. i wrote this three years ago after the death of a very dear friend. june 3rd marked the third year of his loss.]
smell of fresh rain and wet concrete
the leaves moved to applaud
relief from heat
tiny drops tapped
the napes of necks
bent in grief
tears turn to mist
to form a fog of you
bound by disbelief
suddenly
but we planted a tree for you
and you painted the sky
your shade of blue
and a warm orange
i hope to make apple pies
in your memory.
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Thanks for posting this. It is quiet and moving. I always think of Will especially at this time of year for his death but also for his birthday too. The lines, 'tiny drops tapped/ the napes of necks/ bent in grief" is beautifully phased and is so stirring.
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This is beautiful - I think of Will often --Doug
ReplyDeleteI remember Will sitting on my side porch over at my little house in Woodbine, he seemed to like it there as we all did. Vivian once said that it reminded her of a movie set.......I miss them both.
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