Forward
By Frank Adams
Your death
leaves the house empty.
I cannot sense you here.
I long for your smile,
and stories about your day—
but only silence replies.
I want the world to stop
so I can remember you
as you were,
not as a memory. But
it does not work that way.
The living and the dead
go their separate ways—
for now,
I must go with the living.
How true.
poignant.