The Artist

Dedicated to my great grandad, who died on my third birthday. I love you, and I hope you're proud of everything I'm doing.


1. The Artist

It's been years since we last held hands, 
More than a decade since jokes took place. 
Toys from other childhoods ghosts upon the floor, 
After the last time we stepped through your door. 

I wish I'd been more mature back then, 
So I could understand everything you were saying. 
How you'd wished me happy birthday, you held out for me. 
That final good bye should have been longer. 

The lack of communication between the dead and the living, 
Left my family grieving for you uncontrollably. 
You resulted to leaving trails in the evening sky, 
Blue and pink combined bring tears to our eyes. 

Messages of pride and of love and of loss, 
They keep us going, step by step, day by glowing day. 
Drawings and poems and scriptures all cast
In the everlasting imprint of the temporary clouds. 

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