Frank Poem by chris schwartz

What is my life worth?
Is it a quarter hour
Or never ending,
Your passing,
It seems so unrelenting.
I look at your pictures
A lifetime of joy and journalism
Captured ever so quietly
Through a camera lens
That few see and understand.
In your photos,
I see myself.
Yet so few,
Get your message.
Few see the path
You have paved for them.
As one of my own
I grieve you.
Our time together was short
And our goodbye was
Much shorter.
Fragile life is…
Like the cursing wind
Blowing rosebuds off
The plant you just
Nurtured and loved
And saw bloom.
Strong winds are not imagined
They blow through
And leave us
With the pedals
From the flowers
That we love.
Grief has no
Guidelines.
It has no tell tail photo
Explaining
Why you had to leave.
It just leaves its footprints.
I love the footprints that you left,
And no, I will not give up,
Trying to walk in the shoes
Of love.
Thank you, Frank.
For leaving the footprint
In the sand,
For those of us,
Who wish to follow
In your precious footsteps.