Alone, but not, I crush gravel
under my shoes as nostalgia
rears it's pained countanence.
Birds trill and insects croon
under a hazy sky blocking
the sun's morning burden.

I look at the woods and remember
the past when pain eased its grip.
We enjoy the outdoors,
wandering around for hours
doing nothing of importance.
Or, with poles in hand,
we'd set off to small ponds
after searching for bait
to see what lurks
below the mossy surface.

Winds whisper of hopes
and fears in those days.
They warn peace is fragile.
The bond stretchs thin
over the years as we age.
The plan I write becomes
scrap for kindling flames.
My death I plot first,
but nature proves volitile.
Drugs, the unnatural chemical,
takes his life before suicide claims mine.

I stand lost as I look around,
and I know if time reverses,
we'd be lost in these woods
for years searching old trails,
hunting for the biggest fish.
But time moves on, even as I stand
still waiting for Death's embrace.

The last memory rests in my mind.
We stand deep in water with our
poles cast deep before the sun's
rays wreck the peaceful moment.
I weaken and we call it a morning.
Before we part for the final time,
we share a first and last embrace.

I stand on the gravel road,
not alone, my pup stands
by my side, and the memories
born of the wind and wildlife
whisper stir through my heart.

© Hesher John

#WhisperingNature