A quiet hour

I was doing what I do… in the quiet.

I run from noise while I work.

My mind takes me into its ups and downs.

And I talk with my memories…

I hear the sounds of my day…

Mortar under my trowel,

The hum of my tile saw,

The twirl of the mixing paddle…

My friend came to me in the quiet,

His smile was purposeful, as it was…

He left us too soon.

I never thought he would…

We would laugh through our words…

Tears of joy were always near.

I knew his patterned knock at the door,

He was always welcomed… like family.

We often talked about the ways of life…

We never spoke of death.

Perhaps I missed a clue,

Perhaps I should have said the words.

I only know I cannot call,

I cannot anticipate a spontaneous visit.

I paused in my day to reflect,

My tools become silent.

Silent as my smile,

To remember my friend

And to hear his words,

In the quiet of my hour.

                   Shannon R Killman