Peace

A quiet wind blows.
In this place of peace.
A solitary figure stands.
Head bowed and silent

The wind sounds like the whispering of your voice,
As you would talk about our future late at night.
The sun feels like the warmth of your embrace,
As you would hold onto me so tight.

The footsteps of a child are heard.
Running up to the figure.
A little girl, no more than four, sweetly asks,
“Daddy, are we going to see Mommy now?”

I look down upon our daughter,
And smile, for the first time in a year.
I take her hand while saying,
“Yes sweetie. We’re going to see Mommy now.”