THESE I LEAVE

I envy your future sun,
this light, brilliant
I will not see.
I leave to you, my grandson.

I envy the breeze that will bring
the wooded scent of cedar,
where I have watched its branches sway
and listened as they sing.

I envy the flow and fall
of springs and rain,
their touch that I’ll not feel
where no one feels at all.

I envy the lover’s kiss,
the secret whispers you will hear,
the wondered journey that awaits
where I have walked before.
Forgive me, I envy you this.