Don’t expect me to be where you left me,
I can’t promise to wait for you there.
I may not see the flowers you gave me,
or the tears that will fall as you stare.

I will be with the winds on the coastlines,
embracing the mountains of snow.
I’ll be rushing around on the hillsides,
and lighting the fires that glow.

I’ll be flying with geese for the winter,
and welcoming lambs as they’re born.
I’ll be singing with choirs in the theatre,
free roaming without any form.

Don’t expect me to lie where you left me,
there is so much that I wish to do.
But I promise with all of my heart,
the first place I’ll visit is you.

From ‘LOSS; POEMS TO BETTER WEATHER THE MANY WAVES OF GRIEF’