Where the sky meets the ground
Look for my hands
Where the sky meets the ocean
Look for her smile
When the boy runs across a field
Look for the tracks of a pony
And where the little girl’s heart goes
Turn it over to find a tear, or a star

By then the wind will have carried our ashes home
In a mist around that old mailbox
And, quietly, music plays
Small – as from a tiny, hidden radio

As the morning breaks like a dish hits the driveway
You can call your friends
To conjour up stories
Of once knowing you long ago.