LUCY
LUCY
By
Carole Ann
Heaster
Lucy, just a month ago we met.
Your chair, you sat in yet
Refusing to give up your day
Not ready for your bed, you say.
Your voice was firm and sure
Of who you were, and who was I
But, now from you, unwillingly,
Time passed cruelly by and took
Your personality, and fled.
Oh, I could cry!
Because I've seen your pictures,
Commendations, ten times three,
You have lived so great a life
Now, where's your mind, Lucy?
Are you playing as a child
Upon your mother's knee,
Or are you grown and married
In canada, just with he?
An independent nature was yours for all to see.
But, right now, I just wonder,
"My dear, where can you be? "
Perhaps your body holds you down
But your mind has been set free
You're anywhere and everywhere
But where you want to be.
And, that's beside your loved ones who are waiting
There for thee -
They come and bid you join them, one by one,
And sometimes three.
You speak now of what transpires
In a world I cannot see,
I just wish I'd known you - in your days of
Memory.
Minutes pass and hours flee
Someday you'll move on gracefully
Until that day when you're not there, I'll
Treasure each and every hair that
Rests upon your pretty head.
The brains you have are almost
Wed beside your body in the bed.
Sometime soon I'll know your secrets
for to heaven you'll have led.