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My friend you left us way too
soon,
Your moccasins are still warm,
They sit now empty in your room,
And they speak of being worn,
Your prints are still inside these shoes,
They fit you oh so well,
My sadness when I heard the news,
with tears my eyes did swell.
These empty moccasins they still do dance,
The sun dance stick you hold,
Now in spirit you get the chance,
To Dance the dance of old.
The Elders with you now do sing,
The drumming echo's low,
But here on earth your moccasins dance,
With the memory of your Soul!
We will miss you my old friend!
©Oct. 26th, 2006
SnowyOwlSpirit@aol.com |
