The lavender I dried lies in between

The lavender I dried lies in between
The   past, its  memories, and the present day
These  pages of the book you wrote and dreamed

I see you writing and the way you leaned.
The cat across your shoulders loving lay.
The lavender I dried was not yet seen

Now empty is the room  that held those scenes
The old cat  died, depriving me of play
Here still  are the pages of  books  dreamed

Is life a lesson, what does living mean?
Are those wounds of  battle or dismay?
The lavender I dried scents the unseen

That was life eternal, so it seemed
But you have gone and none are here today
Except the pages of  these books  we dreamed

When will we reach the harbour, fine and gay?
For God is smiling as we cross  the bay
The lavender I dried lies in between
The pages of the life that we once dreamed.