by S. L. Stiles
Written for my grandpa after he passed away suddenly.
The pines, they sadly sway the same,
softly whispering your name.
Your voice echoing through the trees,
with every warm subtle breeze.
The oaks bear an open pallet to etch,
years of love and laughter I sketch.
Your scent airing amongst the leaves,
in me you loved, always believed.
The maples crying, telling the time,
of past adornment, yours and mine.
Your laughter fills the branches end,
my heart is weeping, unable to mend.
The evergreen frowns, wipes the tears,
as the face of the mourning does appear.
Your pride it resonates through the air,
promoting support, you always cared.
Grandpa I’ll miss you every single day,
I know why you left, why you couldn’t stay.
I know when I walk through the forest trail,
the pines, oaks and maples, will tell our tale.