I climbed this mountain to once again
look upon your face.
You always loved sunsets, called them
mystical, said that if we looked deeply
with purposeful conviction that we
could see the face of those that we had
loved and lost.
As with most things, in this also you
were right. I climbed this mountain to
once again see your face, and I see you
in its warm sunset glow and deepening
bright star light, if there is such a place
I know you are up there my mother dear.
She died at only 54, too soon, never forgotten
and loved forever. I camped on the summit
that night under billions of bright stars, each
a heavenly glowing monument to all those
loved ones that have gone before us. Gone
but never forgotten.