And his here and my there will, finally, again, both be here…right here.

It doesn’t take his place; it doesn’t help the loss…nothing can or will.

But it is a balm…

Sometimes at night, when the air is cool and the wind is soft, and I watch that patch of road where he once lay as dark and quiet as a pool of water, it is a balm…


About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)