I do not plan to exit meekly.
I aim to be drug into that twilight
Tightly clutching the shirt-tails of my life
Hanging on by teeth and toenails.
ljm

Thoughts like cobwebs float on streams of consciousness
Looking for a solid theme to land on.
Statements ricochet across the voids of understanding
And bounce off walls of inattention.
Comments sidle under and around the focus of discussion
To hide in disparate agendas.
Declarations skid on slippery reasoning and crash
Into thick barriers of resistance.
Decisions leap frog over moving clock hands
And we all get up and rush away from doing nothing.
Meeting is adjoured.
                  ljm

Mirror mirror on the wall
Who told the biggest lies of all


A tisket a tasket
He just flipped a gasket


Red Rover Red Rover
Let warheads come over


One, two skip to my Lou
Three, four, you’ll start a war
Five, six, you’re in a fix
Skip to my Lou, my darling.
Seven, eight, it’s just too late
Nine, ten, you'll never win
Skip to my Lou, my darling.


Here we go Lupti Lou
Here we go Lupti Lie
Here we go Lupti Lou
Why don’t you lay down and die


Ring around the Rosey
A pocket full of posers
Bashes, Crashes
The World falls down


Mary, Scary, quite contrary
How does your evil grow
With fire drill bells and armored shells
And dead bodies all in a row.
ljm

I am someone you can count on.
If I say I will, I do.
If I say I can, it’s true.
I labor on when the rest are gone.

You can trust me with your secrets.
I’ve no need to tell the world.
My gossip flag is always furled.
So you will never have regrets.

I’m the one who’ll stand beside you
As you wade through thick and thin.
I’ll be like your next of kin
And I will always see you through.
ljm

How many ways are there to hate
To loathe, despise, and vilify.
How many fantasies can you build
Where evil returns to those who birthed it.

How many kinds are there of hate.
Cold as an ice floe or burning hot.
Sharper than a scalpel blade, or
Duller than a breaking heart.

How do you work with so much hate.
Build a stair and climb above it
Or fabricate a prison cell
That robs you of the sun.

How do you learn to  swallow hate
And **** it out the other end
Without it tearing up your guts
And leaving you a *******.

How do you spell the names of hate
In blood or bile on ***** walls -
Or glitter on the seaside sand
While waiting for the tide to ebb.

How do you give back so much hate -
Fed Ex will not deliver it.
A carrier pigeon could not fly
With such a heavy parcel.

How do you juggle such mountains of hate
And not miss a catch and be buried.
How do you drop it at the edge of the road
And travel on unburdened.

Please, somebody, tell me.
                         ljm

A The evil little voice still speaks… 8
B Says I can do it all alone         8
C Says I don’t need to call on God, 8
b That I can manage on my own. 8

A A twin to Job, I stumble on. 8
a The mental tools I need are gone. 8
B I cannot seem to find my way 8
b Or summon up the will to pray. 8

A I’ve lost myself along the way. 8
B I somehow didn’t read the sign. 8
a I cannot face another day 8
b With all these shackles on my mind.         8

A I need to fall on bended knee 8
a And ask the Lord to set me free - 8
B To give me back my confidence 8
b And help me climb down off this fence           8

A To help me overcome this angst 8
B And pity for the mess I’ve made. 8
C To help  me get back on my feet 8
b And get a new foundation laid. 8
                  ljm

No eyes will parse
My squiggled lines,
With meaning clear
Enough to slap your face.

Their joy is in the search-
The digging out of what
Is longed for, in the
Most obscurant phrases.

No hand will tousle
Rumpled hair
On recognizing that
Another saw the selfsame bud

And helped unfold it
To a bloom, so
Those in later times
Can share the fragrance.

No lips will purse
On being told
With unmistaken
Clarity what is,

For that's a lesson
Not adventure
And the readers
Have dressed up for the hunt.
                    ljm

I'm scolded even in my dreams
By the inner me who judges
Everything so harshly.

All I do is try to help
And even in my slumber
This is not allowed.

Sleep knits up the raveled sleeve of care
So Shakespeare says
But I unravel in my dreams.

I'm lost, I'm chased
In in a house of many rooms
And cannot find my way.

The clock is running out
And I'm not ready
So the wedding will not start on time.

And though I look, I somehow never see a bride
As I am searching for the candles
And bows I need to do my job.

Variations on a theme
That always spells inadequate
And failure to my sleeping mind.

Why am I so mean to me
Am I so bad, compared to all-
And who must I live up to.

What angry fire burns deep inside
That nightly roasts my spirit
In the oil of it's incompetence.

Why can't I ever win the race
Or find the prize in question
Or be the one to take the bow.

I am my own worst enemy
A therapist once said
Why didn't I believe him then,

Forgive myself and let me be-
To see if I could build a dream
That ended with me smiling.
                    ljm

Once again the bullets fly
Once again the chldren die
Once again the parents cry
Once again we wonder why

When will we all stand and say
The problem is the NRA
And all the congressmen they pay
To turn their heads the other way.

We need to all stand up and shout
All together we’ll have clout
We need to organize a rout
And vote the slimy ******* out
       ljm

WALK THROUGH

Awake at 4 AM in a dark and silent house
There are ghosts and wraiths afoot in other rooms
And chimera dance across the walls.
Time has worn it’s foot steps into paths that lead the way
From one space where the sun shines morning rainbows
Through leaded beveled diamond glass
To rooms with shadows in the silent corners of regret
That fail to yield to hopes and promises of light.

Walls newly shorn of photographs and art
Stand in mute recrimination of the crime
That robbed them of the proof that people prospered here.
People blessed with messy lives that ricochetted like
Pinballs through the good times and disasters.
People who never learned to cheat but studied how to care,
Who gave a measure and a half for a quarter measure’s pay.
People who walked the narrow road until it ended in abyss
And now they have to find a way to to finish out life there.

The smell of tears still lingers in the lattice covered
Meditation bower in a corner of the garden
The little fountain proves unable to provide the only falling water
And the tiny pet grave markers remain resting there in peace

A bulky box with double doors commands most of the driveway
And things too valuable to leave are prisoners inside.
Clutter is trapped in cartons sealed with packing tape
Or hidden in the cupboards no one dares to open.
Untidyness moans softy in the newly emptied spaces
And the dust no longer has a place to land.

The winnowing is almost done and things will find new homes
In a sad bazaar of letting go the past
And turning to the East to meet the rising sun
Where somehow in a diferent place they all will learn to dance.
ljm

I’ve written my words in quicksand
Mostly gone before they’re seen
My footprints are on the high tide line
Erased by the incoming waves

I leave no shadow at midnight
The wind carries away my song
I call and nobody answers
I think I’m out here alone.

I gather some lilacs and daisies
Enough for a small bouquet
But others have somehow collected
Enough for a Festival float.

The candy store seems to be open
The lollipops all on display
Look so very tempting
I haven’t a cent to my name.

No one will buy my small posey
I have nothing much else to sell
Oh well, I’m too fat for a lolly
So I’ll look away and walk by.

Someday someone may decipher
The code that I don’t understand
Though I speak it and write it
And paste it on billboards.

And stand in the shadows
In case someone stops
To gaze at the verses
So recently written in sand

And breathe in the scent of the ocean
The feel of bare feet on wet sand
And suddenly discern the shadow
The posey, the lolly, the music and me
                 ljm

I’ll be there when you call
I’ll be there if you fall
In you I’ve found my future
I’ll be there
I’ll be there

I will watch while you sleep
I will hold you when you weep
My eternal love won't fail you
I'll be there
I'll be there
ljm

In a house that is not my home
On a cookie-cutter street
Battered by the sun, the wind and rain
I wonder how I got here and how I can get out.

All my stuff is scattered everywhere
And hanging on the walls in rooms
That hold no trace of me
Or who I am or want to be.

The neighbor’s floor plan is the same
I could walk in her house blind.
I push my furniture around
But there is still no sign of me.

Everything of who I was
Is boxed and stashed away upstairs.
I’ve never had a house with stairs
And that makes this more foreign.

This house is full of all my things
Shipped across the miles
But I forgot to pack myself
And I am still back there.

In a  home with character
And charm that I created
On a quiet tree lined street
Shared with other kindred souls

The one who wanders through these rooms
Will not admit to being me,
Or breathe life into this address
Nor paint her spirit on the walls.

A guest in my own final home
My name is on the deed
But it belongs to someone else
And I must find a way to live here.
          ljm

Digging after some small perfect diamond
To place into a hand that never fondled one before
Nor could even hold one now,
It’s corporeal being burned away in grieving,
I reach for my pen
I cannot find it with my vision pulsing so in liquid sorrow.
It is mislaid among the clutter
That ***** traps my days and roils my mind in darkened hours
      

I weep for words that will not dance,
That will not float on wings of thought,
But only thud on solid ground

I weep for songs I cannot sing
The phrases buzz like happy bees
That sting me and then fly away

I weep for souls I cannot touch
With tenderness and hope
Because I reach with crippled hands

I weep for gifts I cannot share
The addressee is marked “unknown”
And it comes back all soiled and torn

I weep because it’s all I know
When nothing blooms from what I plant
And barren soil is all I have to til
ljm

I thought it was the breeze
Sighing past my window
But it was only the echo
Of a rejected love song.
                vvvv

Like an endless arrow aimed at the heart of nowhere
The road ahead smashes itself against the distant mountains.

Now the road lasers toward a far horizon and falls off
The edge of the world into cloudy skies.

Cows, like freckles on a distant green field, pay no attention,
And by what miracle is there grass in this barren landscape.

Orange posts on thick black bases march along the roadway edges
Like determined Boy Scouts on an endless hike.

Miles and hours roll away in equal measure and nothing changes
But somehow nothing manages to ever stay the same.

No cactus and no tumbleweed, no sand dunes or gullies.
Only gravel plains that go forever without the smallest signs of  life.

A hundred miles and not a village, not a human or a gas pump
Nothing but the fear of breaking down with no phone signal.

All those places on the map a crazy quilt of boarded up abandoned.
Where others’ dreams have come to die and wither in the sun.

Coasting in on final fumes, the the station is a savior and a clown
Finding humor in the city folk who didn’t know the landscape.

Who didn’t know you fill your tank in every town you pass
And never let it get below the half way marker on the gauge.

A final push and finally the Fallon signs appear
Relief is like a cooling breeze that makes the last miles fly.

And there is Fallon, little town where everybody wears a gun
In leather pouches on their belt, and rebel flags are seen.

Where good ole boys and relatives have welcome mats
And handshakes that morph into hugs that sometimes last too long.

Where mosquitos rule the skies and snakes may keep you company
But everyone you come across will soon become your friend.

The paradoxes build a wall that can’t be gotten over
And the only way to go is back to where we started from.

Highway 95 has brought us to a wholly different world
And sadly, we don’t speak the language or understand the rules.

Nothing but to turn around and make that endless drive again.
No one on the road but us, as lonely as it was before.

The trip was made with hopes held high for a new beginning
But the future offered us came with too much baggage.

So highway 95 goes on...and on... and ever on
For some a super highway, for some a mere dead end.

ljm

My bags are packed
I’m ready to go
I’m leavin’ you now
But you should know

My pen has ink
And it will flow
Soon I’ll return
With a happy glow

It’s only for
A 2-week trip
Then I’ll come back
With newfound zip.
ljm

or

HOW TO GET RID OF THE MEMORY OF A LOVER WHO BROKE YOUR HEART

Wrap the memory tightly in Saran Wrap
Secure it with strong rubber bands
Lock it in a metal box that has a key
Melt the key in the toaster oven
Completely wrap the box in 7 layers of silver duct tape.
Put that in a plastic bag and seal with staples
Put it on the top shelf of the back bedroom closet
Pile old shoes on the shelf in front of it
Lock the closet door
Nail the bedroom door shut
Burn down the house
Move to Europe
Fall in Love again

Works every time.
             ljm

Time
A crooked line
Connecting then and now
Never quite achieving the conjunction
That would build a bridge
To somewhere over there
And make a path to
What could be a better sometime
      ljm

It’s not often
that a word is such
a perfect example of
its dictionary meaning.
        ljm

I hurt four people
         So I could be wounded by two.

I thought it was a bargain at the time
But I forgot the service charge and fees.
ljm

Lost on the rutted road to nowhere-
Bumper to bumper in traffic
That creeps along at a pace
Guaranteeing poor mileage
And overheated engines.

What difference does it make-
I don’t know where I’m going
Or care if I ever arrive.
There’s  nothing for me at the turnoff
But another unmarked  highway.

I had a road map once,
All marked with good directions
But I left it in a restroom
When I washed my hands
And saw a stranger in the glass

And listened to his tales of shortcuts
Promising to bring me home
To hearth fires burning
Warm with dinner in the oven
And two arms stretching out to me.

Silly, foolish, stupid me-
Hungering for meals not offered-
Rushing places I’m not wanted-
Giving things nobody takes
And getting empty boxes in return .
             ljm

(4)
Warm Vanilla scent
Drifts from Christmas kitchen
Bringing back my youth

(5)
Seven and two fives
Parsed and added carefully
Just make seventeen

(6)
Rainy winter sky
Dripping down the windowpane
Paints a broken heart

(7)
Sleeping daffodils
Cozy in their buried bulbs
Wait for springtime sun

One copy of Unicorns is enough, thank you.
And thanks for the likes attached to this duplicate copy.

Rain, falling in broken-goblet shatters
That splash and ricochet on the sidewalk
Wets my unprotected shoes
And slithers through my stockings
Chilling more than just my feet.

The "Monkey's Wedding" sun peeks through
At intervals to fire up rainbows
In the drops that move too fast to study
Here again and gone again
This dark and bright will blind me.

Rain, now sheeting like a ***** shower curtain,
Cuts off the view of what's ahead
And soaks my flimsy parka.
I never knew an Autumn storm
Could smell so strong of winter.

All the leaves that clung so long
Are beaten from the branches
To land on me like snotty tissues
From a nose blown somewhere in the ether-
And I feel tainted by them.

Rain that looks like it can fall for days
In places where its rhythm is unknown
Becomes a dirge as I trudge on
With soggy clothes and cloudy temper
Contemplating years without a Spring.

How I wish my stout umbrella hadn't
Vanished at the party, but I left it
In the hallway when the dancing started up,
And when I headed out into the storm
I couldn't find it anywhere.
                           ljm

She wears the long black dress of desolation
It swirls with heavy motion as she walks
It’s been in her closet many years
And she really never thought she’d need to wear it

When she finally takes it out, it’s dusty on the shoulders
And she freshens it with a dampened cloth
She is surprised that it still fits her
Since she’s grown much bigger over time

Her whole world lays in shattered pieces on the carpet
She needs to gather them into a bag
To put out for the Friday trash-man pickup
But though she looks, she cannot find a broom.

She puts the bigger pieces in a basket
And collects the tiny shards on masking tape
It’s obvious it can’t be reassembled
So tomorrows hopes must stay there on the floor.

She does not choose a souvenir to keep
From the wreckage of her plans and dreams
She’s seen the circus and the rodeo
So why save pieces of the carousel.

She tidies up and shuts the door
To live in other nearby rooms
So she won’t step on memories
Or trample hopes into the rug.

Tomorrow she’ll tie a red sash on her dress
Don hat and gloves and make her way
Across the bridge to meet the road
That leads to new beginnings
And a broom.
                 ljm

P  erhaps it’s time to scribble down a word or two,
E  ven though I have nothing cogent to proclaim.
N  evertheless the urge is one that must be answered to.

O  nce a long, long time ago the words poured forth, but
N  ow the well has seemingly gone dark and dry.

P  ossibly the act of touching pen to empty pages-
A  s an act of penance for strangling the muse of
P  oesy in a knotted, convoluted scarf of dreariness- will
E  nable what was meaningful so long ago to finally
R  ecover and deliver something worthwhile once again.
                                                          ­  ljm

Down at the bottom of this hole
I worked so long and hard to dig
I can barely see the sunlight any more.

My feet are molding from the salty damp
That doesn’t come from rain
Or subterranean springs or rivers.

My shovel leans against the wall,
It’s wooden handle crimsoned
On the dirt that also isn’t paint.

Impossible for wind to reach me
Way down here, so what’s that howling
That I hear?  Could it possibly be me?
                ljm

When I joined, I assumed that the name I put on my poetry was
the name I should use here.  So I put Lori Jones McCaffery.
After being here only a few days, I realized many people had
created pen names for themselves and I wished I had done
so too.  Too late to go back and change my name on
everything I've posted, but that's OK.

However, when someone sends me a nice compliment,
they often use the whole name too.Kinda makes me feel like
a school marm or something.  I'm not at all a formal person.
I'm at the other end of the scale, so please one and all, feel
free to call me Lori.  It'll be easier for you to type and make
me feel more like "one of the gang".

Pray the rain won't spoil your picnic
As you scan the morning sky
Take an extra rainproof poncho
To keep the picnic table dry.

As you scan the morning sky
Look for red clouds in the East
And recall the Sailor's warning.

Take an extra rainproof poncho
Maybe an umbrella too
And one of those big blue tarpaulins

To keep the picnic table dry
Then have faith that God still loves you
And the sun will shine all day.
                       ljm

I saw a giant flock of Wrens
Fling themselves across the dawning sky
Like a scattering of onyx jewels,

Flowing like the tide at ebb,
This way and that, swirling
In fantastic breezes I couldn’t feel.

As suddenly as they came, they left,
Headed for some magic place  
That only birds know how to find.

The sky seems empty now they’re gone
Even though a brilliant sunrise
Lurks behind the distant mountains

And promises a light show of it’s own.
The birds became an Obbligato
To this morning sunrise Etude
And I am enriched for sharing it.
ljm

Barmaid in a black bikini
Push up bra and all
Eight hours in an endless shift
Supplying visual accommodation
To fantasies best left unspoken
By the yabbos leering at the bar.

One half a pill at shift’s beginning
The other at hour four
Keeps the chatter ever charming
And the hopelessness at bay
As the clock sits paralyzed
And it’s always nine fifteen.
ljm

A
My hatred simmers in a *** on yesterday’s stove. The store was out of what I needed to spice it up and I left my Visa card there. My neck is sore from keeping my chin up. I’ve hung the acid soaked sentences out back where the wind and sun will dry them. I marked a map and programed GPS but somehow I  still managed to get lost. There is no future, only now, and I can’t read the instructions Google won’t translate for me.  I have a dollar bill to keep me fed with manna in the morning and a hamburger at night. There is a screaming fit locked up in a closet in the basement. Resignation looks around and wonders who resigned - It couldn’t have been me.  The dam that won’t release the tears shows signs of cracking at the bottom. The bow that shoots the vengeful arrows has a broken string. Standing tall will only render me a better target. •The pillars that support my worth are festooned with poison ivy. The waves of loss and terror crash and roll but I’ve become a cork.
I float.
                      ljm

                                                            ­      
                                                                ­                                            B
•NOTIFICATIONS•

•M­y hatred simmers in a *** on yesterday’s stove.
•The store was out of what I needed to spice it up and I left my        
   Visa Card there.
•My neck is sore from keeping my chin up.
•I’ve hung the acid soaked sentences out back where the wind and
   the sun will dry them.        
•I marked a map and programed GPS but somehow I still
   managed to get lost
•There is no future, only now, and I can’t read the instructions
   Google won't translate for me.
•I have a dollar bill to keep me fed with manna in the morning and
   a hamburger at night
•There is a screaming fit locked up in a closet in the basement.
•Resignation looks around and wonders who resigned - It couldn’t
   have been me.
•The dam that won’t release the tears shows signs of cracking at the
   bottom
•The bow that shoots the vengeful arrows has a broken string.
•Standing tall will only render me a better target.
•The pillars that support my worth are festooned with poison ivy.
•The waves of loss and terror crash and roll but I’ve become a cork.
•I float.
                           ljm

Curled up on a too-small sofa
       Misery oozes from every pore
The fan, a giant spider on the ceiling
       Dimly seen in the pre-dawn darkness
Less dark than the shadows in my soul.

Another day of nothing happy
        Loiters just behind the sunrise
Daring me to find a way
        To build a life from broken rubble
ljm

BLACKBERRIES

When the woods were green
And the air was clear
And the sky was mottled
With fluffy clouds,

When the river was high
And the water was clean
And fish hid in the shadow
Of submerged rocks,

When the cars were small
And the traffic slow
And wild blackberries
Grew by the roadside,

You were my love
And I was yours
And everything
Was shining bright

The scenes have changed
And so have we, but
love has never faltered
And every day still shines as bright
As when we picked blackberries.
         ljm

My life, she said, is so akin
To a twisted, knotted piece of yarn
Tied around an unknown object
Hanging from a broken limb
Blown by whirling, dusty wind
That never ever makes a sound.
                           ljm

None of it works for me
Not dance, not music, not even art.
Not words or rhymes or fairy tales
That talk of ever-after.
All of it is useless in this void.
              ljm

Here they all come to get ready.
Excitement is rosying their cheeks.
This is the day they’ve been waiting for
And dreaming and planning for weeks.

The six bridesmaids, all in a flurry
Of hangers and makeup cases,
Begin to get into their dresses
And do last minute things to their faces.

On the other side of the building
In a room that’s a little more male,
All the groomsmen are solving the mystery
Of dressing in white tie and tails.

Now the bride and her parents arrive
And I really can go into action.
I have  checked over every last detail
And it all  meets to my satisfaction.

I supervise pinning corsages
And give the girls their bouquets.
Then I check on the progress of seating
To make sure there will be no delays.

Everything now is in order
And still five minutes left to the time
I will start them each one down the aisle
To the sound of the ***** and chime.

At last here it is, it’s beginning.
“Start on your left foot...and smile”
The glow that I get as I watch them
Makes all of the effort worthwhile.

And now for the bride and her father.
She’s radiant.  He’s very proud.
I open the doors, the ***** swells,
But she doesn’t notice the crowd.

She looks to her groom at the altar
And her smile is only for him.
As he waits for her there with the preacher,
Slightly nervous, but handsome and trim.

As I watch from the back I get misty
Remembering my own wedding day
And I know that my joy is worth more
Than any fee I could ask them to pay
                               

The drums of war pound once again
While war hawks screech high overhead
In a very crowded sky.
Goliath Rolls it’s heavy tread
Over David’s hapless sling
And doesn’t leave a spatter on the soil.

The Evil One puffs up in pride -
Him of the sly and snake-like eyes -
He didn’t break the Olympic Truce -
A tiny sop to salve the hatred
Roiling in frustration and despair
At lack of the ability to stop him.

The watchers huddle breathlessly
With wringing hands and hopeless eyes
Threatening to take away allowance
If one more tank should rumble over
The chalk mark on the wounded landscape
That denotes the aspiration to be free.

The great unwashed pray to Dow Jones
And check the prices at the gas pump.
Worried that the Safeway may run short
Of toilet paper, beans and Spam
And merchants will hike prices higher
And how will this affect our road trip.

Hoping that the promise holds
Of no boots on that foreign soil
We take our children to the airport
Sending them to Germany  for
Seats along the 50-tank Line
Praying that the game gets called.

People who report the news
All turn the volume up or down:
“It’s just a little foreign scuffle”
Or “Oh my God - it’s World War Three”
Neither of them are on the mark
And we must sort it for ourselves.

And all the while their windows shatter
While rockets flare across their sky
And children who can’t go to school
Must take their naps in subway tunnels,
Cradled by their fearful mothers
While their fathers shoulder guns.

The Great Bear of the East is Hungry
And Ukraine smells like frying pork chops.
ljm

How can you solve the needs of the world
When every window is a mirror
Reflecting only vistas of you.

How can you feel the pain of the hungry
When tail coated waiters serve you your meals
Hundreds of feet higher than the truck on the corner.

How can you embrace the common man
When you consider him covered in germs
Wanting a cheerleader more than a guide.

How will you acquire respect that’s not bought
When you function on a ten year old level
With a Junior High bully as your mentor.
         ljm

They will all be saved

They will all come here

They will all be welcomed

They will adapt to our ways

There will be no bad guys in the crowd

There will finally be peace

God is always on our side.
             ljm

She slipped away with no goodbye
No parting gasp or widened eye
One heartbeat she was here, then she was gone.

I didn’t know it was the day
When she would gently drift away-
The nurses said that time was down the road.

For many hours I’d held her  hand
And when I could no longer stand
I sat nearby to read a magazine.

I cannot say with certainty
The moment that her soul leapt free
I feel ashamed and live with secret guilt.

I never should have touched that book
It robbed me of a final look
That might have told me she was on her way.

I had to wait til Laura came
And here her call my Mother’s name
And cry out, O my God - I think she’s gone.

I tell myself it was Mom’s will
To slip away when all was still
But yet I should have stood there at her side.

I might have sensed her spirit’s flight
Or seen some otherworldly light
Instead I idly looked at wedding gowns,

I feel I didn’t make the grade
And ever since that time I’ve prayed
That she’ll forgive the lapse and love me still.

Wherever she is dancing now
I hope she realizes how
My love is wrapped around her like a crown.

And as she starts eternity
With body new and spirit free
I hope she knows her heart lives on in me.

I think about her all the while
Sometimes with tear-sometimes with smile
But she walks closer by me than before.
  
The wisdom that she shared with me-
The training in the way to be
Are part and parcel of my very soul.

I’ll always be a part of her
Through any change that may occur
My love and fond remembrance will not fade.

So though she left without goodbye
To claim her mansion in the sky
I know she’ll save a corner there for me.

And come that future afternoon
Maybe distant, maybe soon,
I’ll hold her hand in greeting, not farewell.

And she will say she overlooked
My sitting down with bridal book
And that she knows I did the best I could.

She knew the measure of my love
And as she joined the realms above
Considered me to be her good girl still.

Then all the pain I’ve hid inside
Will disappear and I can glide
Into my own eternity at peace.          
                ljm