|
|||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||
|
|
Lucky was easy.
Lucky was kind. She made me feel I was home. She soothed my mind when I was weary. She had her way of talking. She had a way of letting me in. I felt I was something. I felt I could win at anything. I'll always miss her. I see her in everything. Her absence, unending, a day without sunrises or sunsets. Lost embraces and old sad regrets. She was so child-like, so happy. She had no guile. Her contentment uncomplicated and simple. Never anticipating an end. Her constant warbling voice... caused me to smile. It tortures me to think she may not have understood what was going on. Leaving the world, when she preferred to stay on. Its not easy. Lucky, its not kind. Your life far too brief. Fate was cruel, destiny blind. You should have danced longer. My heart's catching. God seems unkind. Lucky, You should have had a second life, an immediate trade-in. A simple grace like yours, shouldn't decay... Have to face unexpected dying. Death pilched with its greedy hands, your life was stolen. You still had your plans to play all that very last day. Lucky shone so brightly. She was too mindful too thoughtful to want anyone to feel dismay. When I remember you it hits me rightly and squarely, my breath's knocked away. Burning out like a supernova Even now, I wonder to this day why? Why would someone like you beautiful, simple, pure of heart leave in this way? It was so hard for me to watch you die as I held you that one last time. And then the room filled with your warm smell and I felt you kneading me later on in bed that night reassuring me once more that it would be alright. Legal Copyright January 30, 2013 All Rights Are RESERVED by this Author for this work/for this site title Melissa A Howells / Meloo Straight from her Tilt-A-World Not trying to be fancy or deep. Lucky was exactly who she was. No pretense. A rarity among all God's creation, great and small. This poem is long over-due. She died on the same day that Tigger did May 19th, a year to the date after he did. They were both surely God's agents and angels on earth and dear dear friends. Sometimes grief comes and tackles you, when you least expect it, and the struggle is hard-fought. For some, its a continuing battle. And sometimes, when you're going about your daily business of life, you can be suddenly emotionally-hijacked... by a particular song, a color, a smell, a thought. Such was today. Vote for this poem |
|