For Samantha…

I should be vacuuming the dog hair on the floor,

Or finishing the yards of paperwork

On the table by the door,

But I’m missing you today.

True, a little less than last year,

But still, I hold the tears at bay

Inside the empty space that once held fear,

And urgent hope that you’d get well.

Most of all, I want you here.

I want more talks at dinner or beside the fire,

More hugs, more kisses,

More laughter, more jokes at who was higher;  

You with your medical pot,

And me with my French wine,

Arguing over what it was, what it was not.

And then, outside my mind beyond my walls,

I see you dancing in the wind,

Showing me how the dead are not the ones who fall,

That we are forever, you and I,

Always laughing, always free,

I hear your whisper in my mind, ” It’s impossible to really die.”

 

copyright (c) Susannah Morgan March 14, 2010, 2011. 

 

 

 

 

 

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