Friday, July 22, 2016

Seventeen days since I last heard his voice. Nine days dead. Five days in the ground. One by one the days go marching forward relentlessly; the clock tick-tocking as if it didn't have a care. Things still need to be done. The pool turned green and I've tried numerous things to return it to normal - to no avail.
.
Mark Heard wrote:

Time marches away like a lost platoon
We gracefully age as we feel the weight
Of loving too late and leaving too soon

We can laugh and we can cry
And never see the strong hand of love hidden in the shadows
We can dance and we can sigh
And never see the strong hand of love hidden in the shadows

He also died an early death.


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