“The Urn”

The Urn sits in a place of honor
in a house filled with love and memories.
It is majestic to all who look upon it.
It reaches out and speaks to your heart.
It wants you to remember days gone by,
the pitter patter of little feet.
   A teardrop filled with precious memories.
   Where have all the flowers gone?
   We weep for the great loss of youth.

The house gives love to all that enter.
The smell of coffee and fresh-baked cookies
bears witness to this fact.
A smiling face, a warm greeting.
Hearts are heavy now, but still the glow of love
is felt by all who enter.

The Urn sits quietly, bathed in candlelight,
speaking to all who listen to hear.
I love you all, remember me, for I am with you always.
   A glistening teardrop releases the ache
   from hearts filled with love and memories.

There is a voice that speaks to all of us.
It touches the very core of our soul.
No one else hears it, only the ones who gaze upon the Urn.
The ears of those who knew her not
will never hear the melody of her sweet voice.
But those of us who look upon the Urn hear her singing still.

She is here with us, always.
She binds us all together with a fiber of love
that no man can see.
And even though we can hold her no more,
the Urn will always help us remember.

—Judy Howell