I remember how we promised to scatter each others ashes on our
favorite hill.
That my love, was a long time ago. Yet I remember it still.

One can’t do as they please anymore. So much changed over the years.
But not my tears.

When God carried you home,
On that bitter wintry night in the warmth of his arms
I haven’t been the same, I’m still lost and alone.

Up on our hill, where we use to go
all those years ago,

A spring wind, blew
the ashes of you

into my beard and hair.
I still could hear
you say:
“Should have waited, as I asked you to.
That’s okay.
I still love you.”

Yes, I should have waited, a bit more
than a spring thaw.

I learned death and burials are a way of life. There’s no escaping the
bridges of  tragedy and reality.

I remember as a child, church bells sound their solemn notes:
Tolling twenty-five, before going silent.
Mommas heart, gave out as she was hanging the wash.

So many people came to say goodbye
Not one did not cry.

Poppa, never smiled again.
His sun, never shone. He lost his best friend.

Poppa and I are a lot alike, in so many ways.

It’s been said, change is progress. In some ways they’re right
Other ways I disagree.
I miss the small towns that use to be.

I miss walking gravel roads with a lantern, visiting neighbors and
they with me.
More than neighbors, we were family.

I miss the simple things in life.
I miss the way your eyes would light.

I miss your beaming smile
The way you made everything, worthwhile.

Thank you for making my world a better place
The memories of you, not even time could erase.

I’m tired of missing you all these years.
Drained from the lonely tears.

Change is progress, this time it is
Ready to come home to my Mrs.