that as I walk I disturb the dead.
The ones who once not long ago
helped me breathe and to grow.
Still is this night that so forebodes
and rests upon the many loads
burdens of words never spoken
a smile, a hug, some lasting token.
The shadows reach as if to hold
and the night air reaches to enfold.
A thought of things I could have done better
it binds the spirit and my heart it does fetter.
Could I but replay certain aspects
and try to repair, pay them my respects
perhaps the night would not be so long
and the dead might remain where they belong.