This Precious Space

[PrinceMyshkin]

The time will come at last
when I have passed
and who will watch the scene
through my front window?

The beech tree and the red brick
four-storey school-house will still be there,
the “special-ed” kids will still come stumbling, yowling,
dragging their feet at recess
or lunch-time, the neighbour’s cat,
for as long as it shall live, will still
come leaping up on to the window-sill
and slink its way across. A bird
or a school of birds will still swoop by
carrying out their agendas
on their way thither from yon.

The snow will come again
and the snow will be plowed or melt away.
The grass will struggle up towards the sun.
But who will be looking out through this space,
this precious 33" by 6' space
of wood and glass?

[Sweets America]

Nobody will watch through it, not the way you did. This view and mostly the feelings and memories associated to it will be yours forever. Does it scare you, this fact that once you've passed, the world will go on turning? I know it worries some people.
Everything slowly dies. The scene itself will die, the kids, the birds...
But with this poem you have somehow fixed something of it.

[CdnReader]

Wow....

[PrinceMyshkin]

Wow....

They charging you by the word?

[PrinceMyshkin]

Nobody will watch through it, not the way you did. This view and mostly the feelings and memories associated to it will be yours forever. Does it scare you, this fact that once you've passed, the world will go on turning? I know it worries some people.
Everything slowly dies. The scene itself will die, the kids, the birds...
But with this poem you have somehow fixed something of it.

No, it doesn't scare me... I suppose there was some element in the poem about the incomprehensibility that I will no longer view that scene or any other, especially the growth of my grand-children, two of whom are depicted in my signature, at an earlier age.

[Pendragon]

Well, certainly no one that can take your place will be the one, Jerry, for there is only one you. A poet of rare talent and a person with a caring and loving heart, who has proven to be a friend who somehow manages to put up with this strange person that I am. I am often up one day and down the next and may seem like different persons on different days, this is no secret to me, it's part of my burden to bear. Some withdraw from it, and don't speak, but you always have been very civil and even caring. Thank you for being my friend. I should mourn your passing. The view from outside your window should have you framed in it!

Dale :)