Name carved on cold grey granite deep
Beneath this clay they say you sleep
But I don’t see you here my heart
This place is not of you a part.
You are in the wind that blows
The fertile soil and all that grows
Your voice is thunder in the storm
Your smile the sun light in the morn
You are in the apple tree
Singing blackbird and humming bee
I hear your laugh in babbling brook
Your voice echo from that secret nook
On old ash trunk that grows askew
Crosses the river just for you.
You are where I find joy
You’re by my side my forever boy.
Dave Kavanagh December 2014