by Thomas Davis
Our fathers died, and then your mother left
And took a train ride to her resting place.
There are no words for senses left bereft
The moment living left our son’s good face.
Our love was glory when it first began to bloom.
We walked brown hills and felt the sky breathe light—
You took your hesitant, unlikely groom
And gave him more of life than was his right.
The days of work and turmoil, gladness, stress,
Have slowed us down and made us feel our years
As separateness has ground against the press
Of love through joyous days and bitter tears.
From gnarling roots of memories and time,
Love forges symphonies of changing rhyme.
fourwindowspress 
Oh this is just beautiful. A moving story told with the couplet at the close that brought a hint of tear. I love it.
Beautiful all the way through but especially the last two lines.
And rhyme it is….
But mostly change it is….
Beautiful my friend
“From gnarling roots of memories and time,
Love forges symphonies of changing rhyme.”
Reminders of mortality but, also, immortality … through love, Thomas. Beautiful, beautiful poem.
Thomas, I just love this and agree with what others have said! It resonates with me….
(Forgive my long absence – it’s good to be reading you and Ethel again. Hope to be back again soon to get more caught up with you both.)
Moving is the word here.