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WALL OF MEMORY

 

Jesse Robert Levey

August 4 1981 - April 12 2002 

Son Of

Elizabeth Shelton
 

Tommorrow Waits

 

Tommorrow waits another day

 to happen on its past.

 And today bestows a simple dream

 that yesterday had cast.

Once there was a sullen fear

 that tommorrow would not come,

 But the joy of time would prove to me

 that today has just begun.

                                                                 Author: Ashley Edwards

 

The Golden Poppy Flower

The winds of eternal time can reveal themselves

so clearly inside the passing bloom of a

Golden Poppy Flower.

The eyes set upon its deepest shade of orange-

watching it grasp the sun like a child

For Its Mother,

The breath of the sky blows it gentry back and forth.

Hour upon hour- day upon day the lovely bloom

Becomes A Mature Flower

that illuminates its essence in the spirit of afternoon.

When nigh arises,

to protect its shade of beauty, It Closes

as the sun moves into its death- only to rise at mourn,

stronger than the passing day and more beautiful than before.

Never Weeping,

the petals are long eyelashes set gazing upon the sun's brightness.

But as the winds of eternal time reminds creation of its cycle,

The Flower Is Taken By Its Strength.

An on the ground the petals lay scattered as

memories of its greatest hour.

Long lashes, soft yet demanding open to the passerbys at its funeral.

Never Weeping,

the petals are pressed into the ground to nourish the soil.

And the day goes by, it depends on the rays of the sun,

folding as It Closes

to the mysterious nigh- It finds the strength to open, a new day,

to produce another bloom that again

Becomes A Mature Flower.

And the eyes will be reminded once more of the story of a child

grasping it arms, so innocent,

For Its Mother.

The eternal winds of time, ever changing, will reveal themselves

Like all the days before finding nature's

unfolding truth in the passing bloom of

A Golden Poppy Flower.

                                                     Author: Ashley Edwards

 

  A Son is Gone

A son is gone, to a place far above.

His spirit has wings, like those of a dove.

Each day we have tried the best we can,

To raise him to be a God fearing young man.

We know not from the time of his birth,

The hour he'll leave this place called earth.

His smiles and laughter should fill our minds,

But those times are now past and hard to find.

We cry and grieve for we don't understand,

The love he receives at the Lord's right hand.

We know in our hearts he's in a better place,

Yet memories cause tears to roll down our face.

A son is gone, has gone away

The Lord to see, in heaven to stay.

He's on a journey ...our Savior to meet,

To set his crown at Jesus'feet.

                                                     Author: Michael Menotti