For William Harold Yates

WHY

Dear Billy,

Tonight,

A late night train blew through

And I remembered Casey Jones—and you.

“Mr. Yates, I presume,” I had said when we met;

“Indeed, Ms. Green.” Oh, I’ll never forget.

White squirrels of Kenton and Crockett’s mother’s grave.

Mel Brooks and Birmingham and the great levee save.

There was only one man in that barbershop quartet

Who with one gentle kiss could make me forget.

You know the answer to the question now

And at least I do in part--

You were put here on this earth for me--

To mend my broken heart.

--C.H. Green @ November 7, 2011

A Memorial Poem

Sweet William's Requiem

“You can’t see him,” was what they said,

And thus my heart crumbled like day old bread.

“But I have to, I have to say goodbye,” I pled,

“You can’t. He’s gone. He’s long since dead.”

Weeping I struggled to make some sense

The voice on the line, words did not mince—

And all the phrases were in past tense.

“He fell…he was…he lived…he died”—

To hear the news, I cried and cried.

Never at the altar will I stand by his side,

Always the bridesmaid, but never the bride.

So I sat by my parents’ graves that day

And said all the things I needed to say.

I prayed the prayer I wanted to pray—

And Irony of ironies—I gave him away. –C.H. Green @11/2011