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.
