A week ago you were here,
and now you're gone.
My mind tries to flimsily grasp
the unfathomable that swirls around
the empty pit you left inside of me
due to your sudden departure.

They said you floated on at impact,
suffering not in the vocabulary.
They said many other things,
but it just lead to claw scratching questions
we will never be able- nor want- to get the answers to.

So we sit here and wait for the grief to cut its path
like a storm waiting to pass.
The ones you left behind,
truly lock eyes for the first time
beginning to understand what the
true meaning of love really is.

So we live here, living for each other...
for you.
We pass hugs and condolences,
tears and admiration.
Cries and laughter.
For you.
For us.
To pass the grief.

You were a warrior,
and silent king.
You were a beautiful light,
a spouting sunflower.
But you left too soon,
gone any trace of you.

So we are left here remembering you,
keeping you alive in memory
and alive at heart.

A week ago you were here,
and now you're not.
But every time my feet touch the water
at the shoreline in the brisk wind,
I'll remember what you always used to say:

*"Float On"

Small town,

starry night,

the playback of old times on vinyl,

small town had our dreams,

osiers standing silently,

along the causeway,

seeing shadows of  days gone by,

against the wind,

memories of  the small town,

bright and luminous like pearls,

small town has changed,

dreamers no longer dreaming,

laughter and tears demised,

and became our own treasures,

walking in this city,

you can go back to a lot of places,

but you can’t ever go back,

to the days of yore,

of the small town.