Raymond A. Foss Poems

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Standing, walking, coming through the line
greeting you, for a moment, sharing
but a snapshot, a burst, of what I was feeling,
so small compared to the enormity
the reality of your loss.
Feeling so small, standing in the line,
before I approached you.
Thinking of what his loss
means to me, to so many,
as written in the paper
Murmured in the court, on the phone
with out practitioners.
Reading so many stories,
so many telling words,
the lives he touched, changed
for the better, truly.
Of his help to me,
guidance and rebuttal,
chastised and cajoled
Feeling the loss of him
so acutely, still.

September 19, 2007 13:13

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