When she died
I cried,
and I
can’t explain the hurt inside.
I laid my head
Down on the bed
So much to say,
But in that silence, all was said.

Still, she looked into my eyes
after so many tries
said, “I
love
you.”

That was enough
her feelings
true
when she told me
“I love you.”

People often say
that they
only remember days
when loved ones acted
strange
or mean
or embarrassing.
But I
am different;
my
memory
leaves out all the sad
the bad—
when she was mad.

I think of her
only when she was glad.
Her smiles
no trials
disturbed
or perturbed;
so hardly unnerved.
Sweet and singing,
her voice
ringing
in the dead of day
doubts flinging
far away.

My
solemn farewell
I
sing it until
I see her again
my pain
turns to joy.