To you, may peace and love abound
As the slow days unfold
As the clouds uncover the sky
And the stories to be told.
There, but his quiet shadow,
Where once his eyes and smile
Said everything about you
His bold and faithful child.
I have known him forever
He has ridden by my side
I never shall believe in
The day they said he died.
The flame burns to ash
Bone, smile and heart,
Scatters them like spirit
That lightens up the dark
Upon his dying head
I shall place a kiss
And a rose just to say
All his days shall I miss.
To his graveside
I shall make my way
There I’ll weep a tear
Upon the mounded clay
When the fire begins
to fade to ash and embers,
the frosted air of winter
finds its way in through
the gaps beneath the door
and around the ill-fitting
windows; but keeping
the flame alive, all our
winters are kept at bay.
At bed time, the laughter
of the children rings
as clear as a joyful bell
chiming innocence
and trust and something
that we lost on our
long road here.
The silence sat there, alone but for that
envied romance that tore the thorns from the
good ground of love and joined heart and hands
so that they held on together for the last
lingering breath, the final, contented sigh
that signed off on the race run and won.