And like a piano
Solo melody the high
Notes seem to tease
The lumbering lows that
Like children at recess
Whistles of the highs
Like completely boiled kettles
Scream as thumpity gurgle
Of percolating coffee lulls
The s-s-s-izzling of bacon
And the shish-shish scraping
Of buttered knife edges
Back country snow skis
Slowly open your eyes
Like one lazy wink
Of Pandora the cat
And this is morning
In our little home
It is often said
The more you mourn
The longer they stay
Moored to this earth
By the weight of
Your sorrow unchain their
Pain and attach balloons
Of joy and happiness
Letting them float away
As high as the
Sky and well beyond
Sitting here and crying
Not really truly knowing
Wondering why thinking how
If leaving was easier
Than staying if ever
Between then and now
They asked what if
Is there such a
Thing as choice then
Or do we all
Just ride the same
Bus to the end
Of the same line
It’s the time now
To remember and reflect
All of the good
So set aside bad
Like tucking away seldom
Used spices behind those
Fondly often reached for
Time to turn pages
Of their scrapbook and
Entertain all the joy
That they brought and
Left behind like toys
Once played with but
Now suddenly gone silent
Some just can’t stay
It’s a lesson learned
Likely as a child
For me it was
Spike a roughhousing cat
Why he had to
Go I’ll never know
And throughout my life
Others followed him to
Where I’ll never know
But as I age
I do know this
That wherever they have
Gone that I will
Too one day follow
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 