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GERALDINE ROSE RASOR Good-bye, Gerry, I wish not to recall the day, when your lips moved, and I saw Your voice reaching me, gently and Ever so softly, Saying good-bye. In my dreams, nowadays, I Dare not hear the Sound of your voice, lest It be so sweet, that I may not let it go, when The time comes, For the Rose to die. It has been a pleasure Chatting with you again, To see your grave again through The drops of tear, which rolls down my face, just as My breath goes passing Through another sigh. The day had nearly ended, when Returning from your place of rest, In the crimson aura of the west I saw you riding with me Into the bloody battlefields of The western sky. Good-bye Gerry, until we meet again On the gentler slopes of the universe, to Renew our vows of unfeigned affections. Nuri For My Late Gentle Friend, Geraldine Rose Rasor Dean, Born in Carlsbad, NM on November 18, 1941, and died in Albuquerque, NM on August 3, 2008
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