Sunday Walks

Sundays used to be filled with walks,

The three of us, side by side.

Sometimes I hung behind both your wild eyes.

But you were always up ahead,

Running free, turning back every so often

To look at me and make sure I was watching

Both of you run — wild and free.

But then one day, we were both left

And you were gone.

Walks of three now turned to two,

Both of us now missing you.

And every time we take that walk,

I hold on so much more tightly

To what I know I still have left to hold.

But that walk also takes me back

To the three of us– the love–

I was naïve enough to think we couldn’t lose.

And that same walk remains a habit–

Has become the life saving ritual–

That pulls me back up,

And places my feet upon the ground–

Even as the emptiness of what we’re missing

Echoes across the hills

And reminds me that you won’t be found.

Sundays are still filled with walks.

Just two of us now– side by side–

While we remember

And let your memory fill our eyes.

–Written by Sandy Heights

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