Some musings on the past and present, inspired by Andrew’s birthday last week

So many endings – thus it seemed to me;
The closing of the door that day I left;
A termination, settled with one deft
Stroke of a judge’s pen; an elegy,

Lamenting while rejoicing to be free.
Then, bowed beneath the unexpected heft
Of your untimely death. A callous theft;
You might yet have become all you could be.

And now I hear, not something being shut,
More like a wind that blows through open doors.
The past has sunk from view; I raise my head:

The sight before me is a mound, a glut
Of ripened opportunities, the shores
Of distant isles; I’m risen from the dead.

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