Death is easy for there is nothing to do while living is hard, for you live right up to the moment you cease to live.

Everyone has a story and sometimes fragments of these stories reach us like one did today. The following is a follow on from the post Reg At Sea. We often forget that although we grieve, we are not always the only ones.

The Departing

Crayons for Grandad
as beautiful as the first rainbow who caressed the sky
the weight of the starburst colours,
avid from a delicate hand
waters cries from an old man's eyes
as the last grains of sand
fall
to
cease
and leave him behind.