But first, the back story. I lost my little sister in 1978 from a car accident. Tami was just 16 and was the passenger in a car as she was returning home from her first day of work at a Dairy Queen.

Tami was nuts about animals, particularly dogs and horses. And the animals were nuts about her. At the time of her death, she was close to getting her own pony. A short blonde that did her own thing, people liked to be around her.

About 25 years after her passing, I happened to find a painting of a yellow-haired teenager sitting beside a brook in the middle of a field. Her horse was standing nearby. Both the girl and the horse were in a ghostly-like state, barely visible.

The painting just did something to me. The words to the following poem sort of just appeared on the paper, as if out of my control. Over the years I have tried to edit it somewhat from its original draft. I have no idea if I made it better. Please keep the story of Tami in mind as you read my poetry. I call this poem


Now eighty-three, reckoned now an elderly man,

Fought numerous battles, a few even won.

With plentiful years behind me now,

Realizing perhaps my race has finally been run.

Possessions were chased over these so many years,

Not near as treasured as once been thought.

But the scars of the chase forever there,

Reminders of the price of which they were bought.

An unknown pursuit, just roaming through these woods,

Speculating no more than the further side.

Chasing success, no time to wander,

No matter how much asserted to have tried.

My forest trek started unlike any of those before,

Determined time would be taken to see,

The bark of tree or green of leaf,

Just simply taking time for an old man like me.

The woods opened into a splendid meadow of tall grass,

Venturing through on this sunny day,

Wildflowers blooming, air fresh and clean,

Both bluebirds and cicada’s twittered away.

To my surprise, through the heart flowed a small brook,

Over the rocky bottom, a pure stream led.

Parched, I gulped a cold swallow,

Exceptionally tired, I laid down my weary head.

Drifting off through that lazy warm and sunny afternoon,

Dreams of promises and ponies; a girl full of laughter.

Carefree and joyful; she was light as the air,

Realizing this was the place perhaps so long sought after.

You see, knowing someone like this long ago, as in my dream,

But last seen, over a half-century had passed.

Opening my old eyes, I then understood.

Tami was summoning me home…at long last.