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EARLY SPRING
~ by Christine Ross in memory of
Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001
I feel him in the morning breeze
As it skims across my face.
I see him in the sunrise
As it brightens up this place.
I hear him in the thunder
Before the sky begins to drip.
I taste him in the raindrops
That trickle down across my lips.
I smell him in the fragrance
Of every flower that's in bloom.
But these things I just imagine
From the corners of my room.
It's winter here in my room.
There's a chill down to my bones.
It's dark, and cold, and dreary
And I feel so all alone.
The cold is a reminder
Of this frigid, frozen fear
That casts those icy shadows
Of death, and grief, and tears.
I'm hoping for the sunshine,
Fragrant breezes, thunder, rain.
But most of all I'm hoping for...
A very early spring.
© 2008 - Christine Ross
In memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001
Published
APRIL 2010, Volume 25 No. 4
LIVING WITH LOSS magazine
Bereavement Publications, Inc.
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