Preparations

The business after departure puts a lump in my throat
It no longer matters if an outfit is flattering
Only that it is aptly somber for the occasion
And fitting enough to meet you in;
That last expression of repose
I wonder if I can truly accept it

Last Visit

Our voices and our hearth
Must call out to you;
You are the butterfly that dances in our garden
You are the sparrow that perches on the tree
You are the soldier beetle listening on us
Until we catch you and set you free
Who wants to depart in tears?
When one can have laughter and fond remembrance

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