I never said good-bye

I never said good-bye


Since the last time I was here
the cemetery has grown.
The stone monuments have faded
like the memories of their inhabitants.
The new section in this orchard of marble and granite
has started to gather in its fold.
I never had any family here until now.
Just on the rise of the hill
under the cool shade of a young maple tree
is the bronze marker I seek.
A few feet below this cold metal plaque
are the cremated remains of my father.
Looking down at this small piece of real-estate
my dad’s final address, I realize
all I have left are precious memories
packed safely away in my heart’s treasury.
One regret will live within me forever.
I never had a chance to cry.
I never had a chance to say good-bye.
I never entertained the thought of my dad dying
Yet, he did.