As You Pass Through the Gates
Impressions are funny things,
Like sunlight shining through patterned, translucent curtains
Casting undefined and unexpected shadows
Making a routine spot new;
Such a thing was you.
I only grazed your being
But I can speak of some impressions
that for me were true.
The directness of your gaze, the sharpness of your wit
Sometimes made me think, "It's time to quit".
But that cocked and knowing grin
bespoke a deeper world within,
Where your own brand of kindness
granted the migration
Of joyous wills.
What do we do when all we've known and loved
turns to dust?
Wipe it from the shelves of our lives?
Yes, this we do, but it always returns
And in this way