The hill where we shared a sled so long ago is
Dusty and bare with just a vain comb-over of grass
Here and there pretending to be lawn.
You held me tight through the finish line, though
There was no racing but my heart.
The flecks of snow on your cheeks sparkled
As bright as the smile in your eyes.
What can I say to an angel?
How do I thank the sunshine?
My heart in my throat left a bittersweet love
That I've not tasted since that cold December morning
Looking into the eyes of an angel.
This hill is my refuge from what might have been.
As the moon rises into the throat of the night,
And stars sparkle on the cheeks of the heavens,
I smile and promise I'll one day visit your grave.
Now, for my angel to hear again,
I say the words I could not say then.
I love you
– Jerry Grinstead
Acrylic on canvas 24" x 36"