flights of angels sing thee to thy rest
One year ago, you left me here alone to wonder why I have to face the rest of my life with no one as incredible as you to protect me. Even though you're gone, I can still hear your voice, and smell your cologne and remember the feel of your skin - soft, silky, like old man's hands should be. I think this might be because you were my best friend for so many years, and how can I begin to forget that?
At night I dream about you. Me in a pile of newfallen leaves or freshly cut grass, and you tending to your tomato plants in bright green shorts. When I see you, you aren't sick, you aren't crazy, you aren't braindead. You are strong, and happy, and whole.
Every day, I wish I'd thanked you, and every day, I remind myself that I didn't have to.
Wherever you are, you are young and happy, swing dancing and whistling and watching out for me.
At night I dream about you. Me in a pile of newfallen leaves or freshly cut grass, and you tending to your tomato plants in bright green shorts. When I see you, you aren't sick, you aren't crazy, you aren't braindead. You are strong, and happy, and whole.
Every day, I wish I'd thanked you, and every day, I remind myself that I didn't have to.
Wherever you are, you are young and happy, swing dancing and whistling and watching out for me.