I'll Sit Here For You
 
Sit I alone,
The lonely,
In the ebbing autumn light;
Watching yet another honking familles'
noisy flight.
 
Off they go now;
Skimming,
ruffling waters
Off the lake;
Leaving crooked streams of sun
To glimmer in their wake.
 
A bird sings pretty, high above.
A thousand leaves turn gold.
The sharp ice air shifts through my coat
As fits of wind grow bold.
 
Oh silver spastic ferret,
goofy smiles and nimble ways;
God has knocked upon our door
And numbered all our days.
 
A silence falls across the Lake
As sky turns winter blue
It will be so this time of year
That Ill sit here for you.
 
Sit I alone,
The lonely,
In the death of summers grace;
Reflecting like the moonlit lake
0n the features of your face.
 
A wild goose calls
Who's lost his mate.
I keen the feeling deep.
You'll soon be gone.
And in your wake,
I'll cry myself to sleep.
 
 
(In living memory of the silliest, chattiest, falling off the bed,
deaf blaze: SOCKS.)
 
I am here.
Mom
[Posted in FML issue 3945]