Sunday Visit
Kneeling before your headstone
I wipe away the tears
Time passes so much slower now
I can’t believe it’s been two years
I take in a deep relaxing breath
Then let out a shaky sigh
I’d made a promise to myself
That this time I would not cry
Stroking my trembling fingers
Across my head and windblown hair
I begin our conversation
As if you were still here
The kids seem to be doing well
You needn’t have a worry
They’re doing fine in school these days
And they’re always in a hurry
I make sure all the bills are paid
But the laundry is never done
You know I hate the folding part
It’s never that much fun
My cooking has gotten better
The clutter has me beaten
I can never find the checkbook
Yet remember if the dog has eaten
You used to make this look so easy
You had a grace I can not follow
At times I think I fail at it
But to dwell would be to wallow
You said you’d want me to move on
Somehow I doubt I ever will
I still get the loneliest at night
Near the space you used to fill
Here’s a drawing from our youngest
She drew the stars with chalk
I’ll be back again next Sunday
I’m glad we had this talk
copyright 2007 Cheryl A. Caron
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It is very impressive. Good memories remain.