Where The Moonflowers Grow

As dusk begins to fall and the moonflowers bloom, that's the last familiar thing that is home, that is you.

The sound of your voice, laughter, your ways, those warm smells of home seem to fade away.

Finding the place where we belong, looking for that feeling that has left us and is gone.

Seeing the signs, feeling you near, holding on to each memory so you don't disappear.

Time keeps going, kids keep growing. Now I am their home without them knowing.

In an instant it could all be gone and still left with the feeling-where do I belong?

Into the unknown-where do we go? You were my home so, how should I know?

I may be right, I may be wrong, but as the moonflowers bloom I'll hum our sweet song.

All of the lessons, all of the pain, a part of the process, and my knowledge to gain.

As I lay my head down to sleep, I can only wish for a magical peek. To be back with you from the start, only in my dreams will you mend my broken heart.

Where ever I go, wherever I am, I know you are with me, I am home again.

In Dedication to Kathleen Brewer

September 12, 1966-November 29, 2019