Written by: Ralph Mason

t’wer the last day
if memory be well
cats on the porch
rug full of shells

a smile from your eyes
a sent from your hair
the vice of your grip
loose with despair

feathers flying south
the silence of the night
gave hint that our time
soon would pass by

your last act of will
so delicate, so sweet
to pray for our souls
in heaven to meet