Gone...

Gone is the beach where I once played with my dolls
Where I pretended they were camping, too

Gone is the dock
Where I once sat in an inner tube
And watched the sunset
And listened to the waves
Gently lap at the posts
Where we used it to jump into the water
Where my uncle once cleaned fish

Gone is the loveseat grampa built
That sat at the edge of the beach
Between a tree and the dock
Where great granddad used to sit
And watch us play in the water

Gone is grampa's boat
That he'd take us fishing in
And take us for rides on the lake
With the wind and spray in our faces
And he'd jump the wakes
That the ships would make

Gone is the boathouse where grampa
Once kept his boat
And that pungent scent of gasoline

Gone is the neighbor's old boathouse
Where I once went fishing
With daddy and grampa

Gone is the sign
At the edge of the dirt road
That indicated where
The Forsythe's cottage was

Gone is the cottage
That my grandparents once owned
It's been sold
Someone else owns it now
Gone is this special place
From my childhood

Gone are my grandparents
They died three years ago

With tears in my eyes
And a lump in my throat
I feel the pain of my loss
Obviously, the ache
In my grieving heart
Hasn't gone...

12.25.04