It's Hard

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  • Loss

    It's Hard

    When we pulled into the drive
    I said this just isn't right
    He should still be in there
    He always leaves a light
    My daughter didn't say a word
    She knew I was hurting bad
    We were coming from his funeral
    It had been so very sad
    Now sitting here this morning
    Watching the sun appear
    He is all that I can think of
    I can't seem to stop the tears
    I know he's in a better place
    Playing with our dog in the yard
    Somehow though that doesn't help
    It's still a way too hard
    In time it will get better
    But it will never be completely gone
    I'll miss him each and every time
    I look around our lonely home

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    Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    rhondagt’s Poems (2)

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