Comfort, oh quiet soul, comfort,
Seek comfort in the troubled music
Of weeping in the halls;
Remember, not the words
But that face,
That gentleness
And that compassion
This world must not understand.
Remember, not the words
But that smile,
After morning walks
And treading energetically
Up the cold aged stairs.
Remember, not the words
But those simple moments
Of dancing to television sounds
And creating ridiculousness.
Remember, not the words
But that voice,
That echoed in its hearty laughter,
That spoke sternly in tender lessons,
That would only love and love again.
His words – his final words of happiness –
Because that is what he is, was,
And always will be –
Even when it’s all been stored away
In a box behind cold walls.
Remember him
Because that’s the best memory
And that’s where he will always be.

July 26, 2009

Written by Ainsley