Bring the grave to the steps

and the memories will follow;

sun stained wallpaper and leaded

windows fade, but not your name.

There’s something in my pocket,

a note from you and a penciled smile

from a name lifted from earth.


I forgot the sound of your voice

but remember your joy on a

face etched with wrinkles.  Neighbors

Still nod with respect; sympathy

and bowed heads follow.  Clouds

cover my eyes like night surrounding.


I’d love to hear you say my name

one more time.


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