The violin lies silently By the book of poems he read There's an unfinished letter That he started before bed The nightly cup of cocoa Red roses in a vase A postcard from the children The memory of his face It hurts sometimes to see them Yet I cannot look away If he could see me grieving I wonder what he'd say Words of friends and family Tell me I should move on Get rid of all the keepsakes Stark reminders that he's gone I bury my face in his sweater Sweet comfort that it brings Lost in this time forever Surrounded by his things Kathleen McCoy Eldridge© July 13, 2008 All Rights Reserved Share with a friend