I came to know my father better in his death than I had in life.
Sad though I am
His Voice still now like the fog wrapped around the pine at the side of the house.
His body a constant spring of mouse trap pains -no more
His love of life bigger than this world always larger than the body he inhabited
Sometimes, what is so close so near and so alike
In the light of similarity It’s almost impossible to see until the flame goes out