The carving in the wood (his desktop),
The luggage tag named “Doc” on the wall,
Taz sitting watchfully on the bookcase,
Waiting for the return of his friend – his all.Lord, I confess my amazement,
That while you made our minds to think
Thoughts grand and deep and surreal,
It is the small things of life that get us,
And constrict our hearts with bands of steel.
His favorite jacket hanging in my closet,
The lock-back knife in my desk drawer;
The computer disk with his password lost,
All these and many, many more.
The old pipe in its velvet sleeve,
With sweet aroma lingering still;
The story of his traitorous stump,
Turning over on the hill;
The memory of that afternoon,
Will chill my soul and be with me till . . .
I wait like Taz with hopeless yearning,
My joy unfulfilled in this earthy state;
Knowing that his eyes are glory viewing,
As I await my time with him across the gate.
It is the small things of life that get us,
And constrict our hearts with bands of steel;
O Lord, I still miss him so much!
Will it end – this grieving feel?
