Today There is no joy in sunshine No pleasure in the drifting breeze. The storm that waited These past months Now crashes in, wave after wave and no embrace can shield me from it's chill.
I press my face To your silk gown And inhale the memories Lingering there.
The small square box, Strangely heavy in my hands Holds only ash and dust To give to Trees and clouds, Lake and sky, And you are gone, Too Soon. Too short. Too much.
Copyright © Charles Dayton, Sharon Lane Last modified: July 25, 2005 WebSite Programming GV Computer Solutions