The year was two thousand and thirteen, it was the end of the summer season. She remembers it not for her accomplishments, but for a very different reason. It was the year her grandfather passed away, he was a man she could admire. In a letter she reminisced about the poems he wrote, as he lay beside the fire. He taught her, never to speak unkindly of others, to avoid being sued for libel. His views on life, came from a cold steel knife and not from the pages of a bible. His philosophy and outlook made an impact, now she doesn't believe in God. Like a sheep without a shepherd, she is following in the footsteps that he trod. She remembers asking the age old question, what happens to us when we die, Through eyes that saw, the horrors of war, he said life after death is just a lie. There is a special poem, she keeps neatly folded, in the pocket of her coat. It reminds her of her grandfather, it was the last poem that he ever wrote.
Copyright 2014 Taun Alaric Richards all rights reserved.