Dear Mike, the trees are lost in the gray
That surrounds them today.
Barren branches strain upward with a cry
To a frozen and lifeless sky
Praying for a brighter day.
Cypress roots are stuck in a muddy bog below;
Don't know which way to go.
Their knees rise up in search of solace
Uncertain of their purpose
In this lonely winter cold.
This season of solitude no lover can defeat;
You've left me incomplete.
I wander through the trees aimlessly
Getting bored shamelessly
With every man I meet.
Spanish moss desperately cling as the wind blows through
Like I cling to you.
But, now your ashes have grown cold,
With nothing left to hold,
I need someone to talk to.
Beneath reflections a decaying log with dead leaves
Whose color the bog bereaves.
I'm stuck in a world of wintry dead,
A shivering stillness inside my head,
And cries you once consoled, no one else perceives.
These photos and poem are a few years old, but I am posting them today in memory of my husband. Today is the anniversary of his death.