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]