Mr. Kexby

It’s been ten days      
nothing seems the same      
magic gone, words benign      
looming wanderers    
poetry to poetry      
all sounding the same.      
The golden hand with eternal pen      
living calligraphy on fabric of skin      
weaving immortality on alabaster sheets      
with childlike delight, unveiling shrouds      
embarking wingless flight with guiding light      
through forests of our minds      
with each tender caress      
wild flowers bloomed from fingertips      
scattering seeds on drought of our minds.      
It’s been three years, ten days and a one      
nothing seems the same, neither you or I      
my friend; smiles are deeper, the wine is richer      
brimming with wisdom      
nestled in warmth of our wrinkles, and      
the golden words fall like drops of rain      
finding perfect puddle to fill the pain      
“There’s beauty in grey”, you said.      
"Where Jack used to play,"      
I long to be in that picture frame.      
I see you standing far far away      
on the Avenue looking up ahead      
searching for the one      
who colored dull days      
when everything was the same.  
The world will be flat      
without you my friend, and      
nothing well ever be the same.      
Author’s note:  “Avenue’ has always been his favorite word, phonically and aesthetically.  Jack was his dog who passed away about 2yrs ago.
Written by Vee (Rina)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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