Gone

--For Uncle Don

When the call came in
on the Sunday morning you left us
it was more than I expected.

Gone.
Like a piece of mail
lost among the papers
and slick colorful ads.

Gone.
Like a private thought
not shared with others,
held close to the heart
so as not to hurt.

Gone.
An old joke told
where we all laugh
but don't know why
it was funny.

Gone.
Like the departing summer
trapped in the fog that gathers
near the earth at twilight
only to burn away with the sun.

I say words
that I have said a million times
and I can feel you so near
I wait for you to walk up the stairs                  
with some important bit of news
to crush this silence.

Like you were here.
Like you were smiling.
Like you had finally won
the race against all time.

Like you

were never

gone.