The High Holidays
The Chicago winds blew the soft, dark blue
satin drapes.
It was the spring of our passion.
Why do tears fall now, with you in a cold grave?
I think of what our life would have been like in Israel.
But of those never to be Shabbos meals, I can never tell.
You told me you were dying, but I did not believe you.
A mensch like you? Impossible!
Then, HaShem took you home on the last day of High Holidays.
The Chicago winds no longer blow the soft, dark blue satin
drapes ever again in Chicago.
Lake Michigan, outside my window and I still waiting.
In a stunned,silence.
Still hopelessly,languishing longing for you!
10-5-2020
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