The author of this poem chooses to be known as "Non-Poet" and he agreed to have his poem posted only if I credited him as such.  He wrote this poem while he was instructing one of his seminars in June, 2000.

I could smell the flowers.
Some people were crying,
And there was laughter, too,
And many many sighs.

And I could smell the flowers.

Friends came to call,
And distant relatives,
I really did not know.

And I could smell the flowers.

Many said, "I'm so sorry"
Others said, "You're in my prayers"
Some others, "Is there anything I can do?"

And I could smell the flowers.

There was lots of food,
And much to drink,
And plenty of coffee,
Pasta, cakes and cookies, too

And I could smell the flowers.

I looked at grandpa - so still.
I realized I would not see him anymore.
I missed him already.

And I could smell the flowers.

But I was wrong.
I see him still, and hear his voice,
And listen to his stories

And, especially when I smell the flowers.

by Non-Poet June, 2000

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