On these bittersweet days

 

You may

not be here

in body,

but you live 

in every pore.

Every story that soars

through our thoughts.

You still sit

in your old seat,

slightly worn,

still moulded

to your shape,

your presence.

Your form

is in the fabric

of this reality.

The settee facing the tele.

Your sanctuary.

 

You may not be here in body,

but you were always here in soul.

The soundtrack of my childhood.

Marvin Gaye spitting truth.

What's going on?

You would say. 

You'd be questioning everything.

When we look

to space for guidance,

your answers still dance

through our ears.

Your mind, the streetlights

on darkened beckoning pathways,

and on these bittersweet days

I let the joy you brought

flow in like sun rays.

To part the chill

darkness of hurt.

 

You may not be here in body,

but I still see you every day.

In everything we do,

I see reflections of you.

All you taught us.

All the good

that lived within you,

still sits in that worn out seat,

and in the air we breathe

In every particle of air,

in every stray feather

we see lying there.

You never truly leave.

Not with all the stories

you bequeath.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

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Peace, Love & Poetry 

 

Kyle