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MEMORY
She regularly visits the cemetery,sits for hours on the little folding stoolshe brings with her, at his gravesiteand reminisces with him over momentsof joy and sadness they had shared.Once a year she brings flowerswhich she leaves in the small pot.When she planted them in the soilbut would find them dead by her next visit.She wondered…
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HYMNAL
Open to page 147 of your hymnals.There is nothing to sing therefor the words of promise oncefound there have witheredand faded, carried off on nowtoxic winds, so hold your breathor whatever heaven you imaginewill be too soon be approachingat a speed exceeding imagination. You don’t remember how you got here,things happened around youwhen you weren’t…
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an old writer and his words 