To An Absent Friend

TO AN ABSENT FRIEND

I thought of you today : a hand reached out
Across the miles of time we call the years
And seemed to banish every nagging doubt
And pain of vain regret, and foolish fear,
Then bitterness for things that I had planned,
But somehow missed, or lost along the way
Grew less as I could somehow hear you say,
As you have said before, "I understand."

And what if you weave lyrics bright as flame
While I must tend my fire and sew and sweep,
The gulf will never stretch so wide and deep
I cannot cross it with a whispered name
And memory will still reach out a hand
To clasp my own, and say, "I understand."



The author of this piece, Mary Pavey, was born in 1905. She taught elementary school, married a farmer, raised twelve children, and wrote poetry. Mary's unpublished work has been read and loved by her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren for over 60 years. We dearly love Mary’s vibrant and generous heart, and her spirit is fully alive in her poems.