WordPress Writing 201 Day Five
A Wayward Leaf
You appeared as a wayward leaf
Outside my window whispering “time is a thief.”
How you disappeared so quickly, my friend,
You died during heavy rains of confusion, a Piscean end.
Yet in the misty, watery, bayside moorings,
I knew you had suffered and cried in the mornings.
We knew all you ever wanted was a family of sweet kindreds,
Yet the anxiety bottled up blasting inside your head.
I wept at the injustice day after day,
Thinking about the wolves that kept you at bay.
They came up with all kinds of psychological labels,
It was much too late; you longed for a happy-ending fable.
The lightest, most delightful red ruby hummingbird
Caused gaiety and laughter, uttering not a word.
How could it be that you had to so quickly depart?
And leave us to wonder if you ever knew your own heart.
Came a glowing cherub, the angel of deafening fate,
A thrift store treasure found during my melancholy 1998.
Little friend, I often wonder if a fairy tale had been written,
Could it have saved your life, instead of you being bitten?
When, at summer’s finest end, the leaves do fall,
I stop to pick them and ponder it all.
The things that delighted our senses were many,
Like googley-eyed frogs, blooming roses and the shiniest penny.
If you are reading this, over my aging rounded shoulder,
Kiss now your loved ones, savor each pebble and boulder.
Give me a sign please, just one in the evening
And let me know again that you knew you were leaving.
Copyright ©2015 by Susan E. Rowland
Journal prompt: write a no-holding back elegy (see above) or page about a death or a love. This poem is one of a series that is emerging on my friend and co-worker Jocelyn who died in 1998 from an aneurysm. She was only 38 at the time. She loved nature and collecting pretty leaves, and anything with googley eyes. She was born in Nashua, New Hampshire and passed away in San Francisco, California. We both lived in a small rural town about two and a half hours north of the Bay Area. Her husband Pete, died six months before her after a long illness.
When I think of my friends who have crossed over I can smile again. I look at death differently. They want us to carry on and to be happy.
I am not posting a photo of her here, rather I’m posting a picture of the things she loved.