The sadness grows
summer’s gone
autumn’s here and falling fast
winter comes
and you aren’t here

O lost and by the wind grieved, O ghost, come back again.

Two weeks after you were killed
the baby’s fever was one hundred four
went to the phone to call you
it was winter, earache and sore throat time
you aren’t there

Spring slowly emerges
gets frostbite and re-returns
I drive by and watch for your bulbs
to raise their brave heads, at flowertime,
someone cut the buds for a quick demise

The old man, empty and alone without you
had a slower death
than your tulips, crocus, daffodils
it was spring,
you did not come home

Summer came
I furnish yellow squash and beans
and at garden harvest
there was a new malignancy
Summer, another crisis, you’re not here

Autumn comes brings 
bright golds, olives, rust, dull browns
the best colors are back
no fun withiut you here
a new fall, it’s been a year