The Property (Ours and Flowers)

We are so busy in our lives. There’s time, but too rare is it that time, we make. Mostly, it is the allowances that we welcome, our time it does take. So, slow down, take ten minutes or so, and go where this takes you. It’s safe I assure you, and visit as often as you would like to.

The other day, I stopped by for many hours, and just wandered the yard.

Dad, I walked every inch of the place, and everywhere, still I see your face.

It’s been six months now Dad, but nothing changes, losing you has been hard.

 

Around the house, we would all run after supper, you leading the way.

Dad, I looked from every spot to see, behind every scene, you and a memory.

Some things seem so close, just like they happened to us, only yesterday.

 

I walked through the grass, over the places we’d sit just being father and son.

Tennis, Olympics, baseball, and basketball, Dad didn’t we recreate them all.

I sat on the green, and stared at the sky, dreaming you here, ever-smiling one.

 

Places I trod, whether in trouble, or having the times of my life, this is home.

The land here, to me, a constant draw, twas inside, love we learned, was taught.

Since the day you left, part of life, despite the colors, appear to me, monochrome.

 

So, I was compelled to come by and, all at once, capture the colors, the property.

I wanted Mom to see that the hours, well they look as good as ever, the flowers.

Dad, you would love the colors, the greens and reds, another autumn to see.