On the October Wind

Thoughts of you tumble, like the leaves before the wind.
Memories caper
they dance, dip and glide
like small bits of paper
as the October wind blows.
In it I hear my name called low,
is it your voice, just the slightest whisper?
Or a stray rumbling from the sky?
I brush an errant tear from my eye.
Hunch my shoulders and walk on.
The mantle of remembering heavy today.
There will be no cake, no candles.
No presents to open.
Not today, never more.
I know that.
Forever you will be 20.
That's where the story ends -
no happily ever after,
20 is when Death closed the door.
But he can not close my mind,
and it is there you I still find.
And so today at river's edge,
I sang it to the wind.
Perhaps he will carry it,
beyond where mortals tread,
and you will hear Birthday rememberance
upon the October wind.

I miss you, Joshu.
Love, Mom