ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL DAY

  

He read her diary after she passed on,

Her name recorded in the Book of Life,

And started writing where she had left off.

 

He wrote what had occurred from day to day,

As though she too were reading, starting with

“Another beautiful day”—her usual words,

Regardless of the weather.

                                           He would note

The visits from the children or from friends,

The gossip from the church, or little things

Only they two might know; for sixty years

Of married life beholds a world to share

In every mundane scene.

                                        He wrote, “Today,

The daffodils are nodding in the yard.

My darling, they are blooming just for you.”