I haven't gone to see your stone, and kneel
Beside the mound that interrupts the lawn;
My worried friends have told me why they feel
I haven't gone.
They bring me flowers I can lay upon
Your grave, and offer words to help me heal,
To make me unafraid of moving on.
I never try to tell them of our deal,
Of how you said, "I'll greet you every dawn,
In spirit, with a whisper to reveal
I haven't gone."