On Your Birthday

Very often I walk alone,

and Wednesday was no different.

The morning was perfect —

you would have loved it —

so I stepped away from the

day-to-day I know you knew so well,

and went for a walk before noon.

I was sorry no one joined us —

but I celebrated quietly,

my memories like a mantra.

Oh the stories I would tell if

we gathered to tell them —

those of us who are left

here on your seventieth birthday.

But very often I walk alone,

and Wednesday was no different.

Except I knew that you were there.

• • •

Photo & Poem ©2013, Jen Payne