Trying to forget someone you loved is like trying to remember someone you never met.

In the primsose light of early morning
Stepping through the ferns and the briars
I listen to all the beautiful birds
Singing and courting and living.
Woody, leading the way, following
His nose. He follows trails of scent,
Bringing him all the pleasures of 
puppyish mischief and rascality.
My heart leaps with love of all the living
And all the dead. My grandfather walked
These more than rural miles
Before being shipped off to fight
In Flanders' Fields. My father too
Before Burma. Now I am alone,
But not alone, like clouds
Over fields of May, I take my time,
To enjoy all the glories of the day.