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Letter: Where to from here?, poet asks

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TO THE EDITOR: (This was written Dec. 14, 2012)

Empty rooms, empty beds, empty pillows awaiting sleepy heads...

Never expecting there would not be another life moment between you and me

The likes of which,

For those who knew,

revealed the magic between me and you.

Not to have been given the physical choice

for one more time to hear your voice,

brings overwhelming grief, tears without end;

one cannot even begin to pretend

time will heal this gaping wound-

the simple truth, our world is ruined.

Innocently following

Each winter, spring, summer and fall

Seasons numbering close to thirty in all,

Learning, loving, holding dear,

Every changing tide, every blessed year.

Now, nothing will be the same

Ever

Has become our fear

and the question, unanswered, is

"Where to from here?"

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