Stepping out touched by the the sun, the rays warm upon my face. Nothing really seems amiss, nothing changes in this place.

The garden’s such a peaceful spot, his spirit fills the air. Night and day and day and night, comfort, tears and care.

But the busy road is now a quiet street, no one mills about.

Something seems so very wrong, of that there is no doubt.

Usually a crowd is scrawling love notes on the wall, each pledge holding fast a heart, but lately nothing’s new at all.

Does he miss the stream of visitors, does he know that we’re not there? Does he feel the loneliness, does he know that we still care?

Perhaps a rest is what you need, a silent garden still. A solitude to contemplate from the house upon the hill.

It sorrows me to think no yellow roses on your tomb. It saddens me and breaks my heart, the emptiness, the gloom.

The entire world is upside down and life has taken on new terms. We walk with masks and gloves and a fear of outside germs.

I now see from afar the mansion on a hill, the view still bringing hope. Encouragement comes from that scene and is helping us to cope.

To hear your voice while the same sunshine warms my weary bones. I write love notes within my heart, your singing warmth is in the tones.

We can’t be there you understand. It must be this way for now. Life will change and we’ll be back, some way, some time, some how.

Until all is open once again and life takes a pleasurable turn, serenade our lonely souls and know we will return.