Passing By

They go, passing by, the dear ones and those well-spoken of,
Family, friend, sage, humorist, love,
All of those and more.
They go and we imagine being there with the husband, wife,
Cradling the dying one as we have cradled the child within the child,
Cradling all, hugging, nurturing life
In grief, in that wild
Wilderness of loss, the outpour
Of pity for what the lost one lost,
The sweetness of living, the hope, the smile,
The bon mot, the unexpected sentiment,
The early Valentine, the glance,
They all gained meaning that went
Away with a breath, while
We who remain remember, list,
Lean on a friend, smell
Flowers differently, dance
No more for a while.

Michael Bouman (St. Louis, MO)