Poetry Friday

This is one of those times when I am totally wishing I could be in two places at once. On one hand, I know these two absolutely gorgeous guys who will be playing football on Friday night, then dressing up, and heading off to homecoming with their honeys on Saturday night, and I want to be here to take pictures and admire what amazing young men they are becoming.

But then on the other hand, I would really love to be getting on a plane tomorrow and heading for Portland, Maine, to honor my dear friend, Don Graves, and his wife, Betty, at a memorial service on Saturday morning…

I'm staying in Colorado, but a big chunk of my heart will be in Portland, Maine at 10:00 on Saturday morning.

Gone From My Sight
by Henry Van Dyke

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone"

Gone where?

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone,"
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"

And that is dying...