Sometimes, Zoey

Sometimes, Zoey, I think, when I dare to think about it at all, I find my mind wandering, wondering, Zoey, what color are your eyes?

And I wonder if you hear my cries.

And I wander farther down a path I maybe shouldn’t dare to go.

Sometimes, Zoey, I wonder what does your laugh sound like?

And now I have gone too far to easily come back,

Sometimes, Zoey, I wish I could have known your hugs and smelled flowers in your hair.

Sometimes, Zoey, to all of us your leaving seems so unfair, makes it hard to even breathe the air, but sometimes, Zoey, I know when I look up into prairie skies you will show me all the the colors in your eyes and in that moment I will listen more carefully and I think sometimes, Zoey I will hear your sweet, sweet voice say, “grampa, it’s okay, I know you love me and for now that is all I need to hear you say.”

And sometimes, Zoey, I dare to think of walking with you hand in hand across the prairie and looking up at the colors in the sky and smelling the flowers and being silly and asking about everything, why?