Loving Memory

Weeping, weary I lay my head
upon the pillow on my bed
and let my mind begin to drift
back to a time before the rift
of life and death pulled us apart.

I search the reaches of my mind,
pursuing treasures I might find.
The precious mem'ries from before
when life offered an open door
between your love and my poor heart.

Frantic, I roam the corridors
hoping, behind those many doors,
to find a way to say good bye
and finally dry these tears I cry.
They seem to flow unceasingly.

Then, softly in the quiet dark
I hear your voice and feel the spark
of laughter that it always brought
when you would share a funny thought
or, maybe, tease me lovingly.

And in my heart I feel you near,
no longer lonely or in fear
For, though I'll never see your face,
I know I've found that hidden place
where you will always wait for me.

Now, suddenly, I understand
the phrase I thought came light to hand
when carvers earned their daily bread
on stones that mark our final bed.
I'll always have you close to me,
you're held In Loving Memory.