A friend of mine died just about a year ago. He was young, vibrant, active and enthusiastic about life. For some reason we cannot know now, he passed quickly to the other side.

He and his wife had just finished refurbishing a home within a family spit of land on a beautiful lake in upstate New York. I think about Jay often and so dedicate the following poem in his honor and memory.

The Lake

©2015 Rolland G. Smith

(Dedicated to the memory of Jay Andretta)

 

There is a place where family goes

Beyond the strife of daily clime.

To where the light and water glows

And mountains blend as if in rhyme.

 

There’s history there of family ties

And memories of childhood.

When life and times had different sighs

And children played by shore and wood.

 

In time there came another home

On land adjacent to what’s known;

In many ways, a palindrome

Of what’s before and what is sown.

 

New visions came from dreams and mind

And crafters set them in its place

For family, friends, to all unwind,

Where cares and troubles all erase.

 

Creation always has a name

Where thoughts and hopes are held keepsake.

The beauty wrought from place and frame

Does name the pristine home, “The Lake.”

 

But now the home does ache and weep

It’s missing one, a gentlemen.

He left to go to Heaven’s sleep

Where we will go when we are done.

 

So what’s to happen to this place

That holds a past from long ago?

No passage eases family’s trace,

But how we wish he did not go.