when
wriggly worms are done
with you
i shall await
sweet scent of blooms
that should some day
sprout and mark
this very spot
in which
you last
reclined
that is,
if i don't
follow
after you
soon
`
Fourteen days until your birthday, but you are no longer here. You have left us 10 weeks ago, Dad. All the special days are now another farewell.
galateus rkay crypticbard excalibard arqios arkayye arquious kesner
Very poignant, Frederick.
A sad poem, Frederick. Very touching.
It will come to us all. A poem of truth which I fear people these days are not comfortable with.
Thank you for this
Keith
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Red Brick Keshner
Thu 9th Jun 2022 23:01
Thanks for dropping a line or two in the comment box. You are much appreciated: keith, John, Stephen. The discomfort makes for the poetic 'wrestling,' keith. May not make it easier or less painful but we can, as we say, "go down with a fight;" and "not go gently into the night." And so all the 'first times without them' has begun. Cheers. /Frederick.