Sunday Visit br br br Kneeling before your headstone br I wipe away the tears br Time passes so much slower now br I can’t believe it’s been two years br I take in a deep relaxing breath br Then let out a shaky sigh br I’d made a promise to myself br That this time I would not cry br Stroking my trembling fingers br Across my head and windblown hair br I begin our conversation br As if you were still here br br The kids seem to be doing well br You needn’t have a worry br They’re doing fine in school these days br And they’re always in a hurry br I make sure all the bills are paid br But the laundry is never done br You know I hate the folding part br It’s never that much fun br My cooking has gotten better br The clutter has me beaten br I can never find the checkbook br Yet remember if the dog has eaten br br You used to make this look so easy br You had a grace I can not follow br At times I think I fail at it br But to dwell would be to wallow br You said you’d want me to move on br Somehow I doubt I ever will br I still get the loneliest at night br Near the space you used to fill br Here’s a drawing from our youngest br She drew the stars with chalk br I’ll be back again next Sunday br I’m glad we had this talk br br copyright 2007 Cheryl A. Caronbr br Cheryl A.