She walked to the pond,
The one Dad first took her to at age 9,
That time she caught a pan fish,
Green-blue & lively;
Tasty, too.
Now she’s returned,
Longing for the moments he shared,
That she’d naively thought
Would last forever;
They didn’t.
Funny how time fibs,
Whispering, “Why rush? You’ve got
Tomorrow, and the next day,
And the next.”
But you don’t.
Dusk cozies in,
Like the shallow sneak he is.
(Time’s un-indicted co-conspirator)
Then, “Poof!”
He’s gone.
Pond & sky kiss,
One last eternal, “Good-bye,”
As night’s dark cloak slowly unfolds,
Like curtains closing a sad play.
And everyone cries …
