Roy

Inebriated faces

Glow in the campfire

As alcohol spills

With laughter

And flashlights shine

On the all-important

Game of the night.

Roy used to be here —

His robust figure and

Laughter permeated

The voices

Until one Labor Day

When his diagnosis

Followed his wife’s

By three months.

For three years,

Hardly

A blink in time,

His body changed,

Though his

Imprint remained

The same —

His love, obvious,

As he fought the pain

And the persistent

Cruel goddess

Who tugged at him.

His half-smile faded

As the sun set,

And he vanished

With the gentle breeze

That washed over us

By the shores

Of the Shenandoah.