His Laugh

I hear your laugh in memories of the past:

That laugh when I spread the garden seed a little thick.
That chuckle when you saw me pulling plants instead of weeds.

I hear that laugh every time I see your chair
And remember the last night you sat there.

I hear your laugh when the family gathers

And in quiet moments I hear your voice

And know you're not so far away.

The Only Folk We Really Wound, Are Those We Love The Best

There's one sad truth in life I've found
While journeying east and west-
The only folk we ever wound
Are those we love the best.
We flatter those we scarcely know,
We please the fleeting guest,
And deal full a thoughtless blow
To those who love us best.

-Ella Wheeler Wilcox