Poetry
Willa
You should have been eighty eight,
In November on day seventeen.
Where should I send your card,
At home you are not seen?
No more early morning coffee,
With a new crossword puzzle.
Nor pancakes, bacon and eggs, or
Talk of politicians we should muzzle.
Troubles of mine I would tell,
While watching your game show.
You listened and advised me well,
Cookies, pudding, where did you go?
Chauffeured you around in old LTD,
Shopping adventure was your song.
Now I look out thru your window,
And wonder where have you gone?
The yellow Columbines are still here,
Peonies, cactus and Tiger Lilies too.
Sun City, Canon City and Gunnison,
All still here, but not you.
The red quilt you made for me,
Took long hours I am sure.
In hospital room you were tired,
Body worn out but no cure.
Your last words to me were,
"Life is now colorless and boring".
God's mercy you died in your sleep,
June fifth early in the morning.
From Cripple Creek down Red Canyon,
Mountain winds still gust and blow.
Thru the Sumacs across your garden,
Aunt Willa, you're missed you know.
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Beautiful. What wonderful love comes through.
Moving!
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