I was drawn here to this wood;
Where I find it does my heart much good;
To gaze and wonder, laze and stroll;
And liberate my heavy soul.
Dreams and visions roaming free;
To sing and dance and chat with me.
Today I feel is like none before;
For in my wood I sense one more.
Just down the path by a patch of fog;
Next to a bush near a fallen log;
Where sun streams in like golden wine;
Who could be in these woods of mine?
I held myself and dared to glanced;
It couldn’t be for what’s the chance?
My tired eyes well up with tears;
The man I see’s been dead four years.
But he had traveled far like I,
To hold my hands and dry my eyes;
To brush my hair and touch my face;
To hold me in his strong embrace.
He kissed my cheek and turned away;
I suppose he knew he could not stay;
But when I tried to follow fast;
He disappeared right off the path.
He’s not as gone as I may believe;
For he comes to life each time I grieve.
I’m certain he watches over me;
Eternally more than just a memory.
To the one man who kept me always on the right path.
October 13, 2000
