Where once I stroked your face
Now stroke a gray gannet slab
When did we reach this place
the past too far to grab
The birthday card I wrote
to give you on this day
This heartfelt written note
propped against the gray
Not to see your face
as you blew out candle flames
instead I'm left to trace
the gannet's textured grains
left with fading memories
that weaken every day
Singing children's melodies
Hoping you can hear what we say
Every day I wonder
If I could have changed the past
If somehow I had blundered
The 'what if's" I never asked
And still I hear you clearly
on the day you clasped my hand
"Now we're a real family"
And I will never