Loss
Loss.
The feeling of hopelessness.
White roses cascading across the black sky.
Flowers and greatness turning into ashes.
The memories floating back,
"Great granddad, are you still there?"
Please come back and pat my head.
I miss his smile,
And my granddad’s loving eyes
The way he smiled and his eyes lit up when he saw us,
If he was happy he would be sure to let us know, and if he
was sad,
He would make sure nobody else was.
Loss,
The way he felt before he died.
Loss,
The way he let nobody else feel.
Loss,
What we now feel.
So may I ask one last question?
“Great granddad are you watching over us?”
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