And so you died; that's no great deed, my friend.
It's something every living thing must do;
And though you sometimes chose to court that end,
Death chose the time and place to marry you.
"Unfinished!" was the cry from us who heard
How early and untimely ending came--
How songs unsung and promises deferred
Went past revision, dumb to praise or blame.
So then you died and cannot speak to me
Of how our last experience played out;
But I can hope your hope has set you free
For places past the harms of fear and doubt.
You left, but left me lessons yet to learn
And took a part of me you can't return.
Copyright © Jerrell Jones | Year Posted 2015