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Nov 2015
6
After the casseroles from anxious neighbors
And the flowers stopped arriving
And a last aging aunt blubbered goodbye,
I left the silent house,
Drove to the foothills
And began to climb.
Atop your favorite peak,
I opened the urn
And gave your ashes to the sky.
Will I ever stop wondering where you’ve gone?
The light was changing
As I descended into
The mountain's immense shadow.
Thanks for hanging with me on these sky poems...have almost exhausted all possible reasons for looking skyward.
David Adamson
Written by
David Adamson  M/Silver Spring, MD, USA
(M/Silver Spring, MD, USA)   
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