He often spoke of our little brother,

he wondered what his life

would have been like if he had lived.

He was the only son of a proud Scottish family.

It carried a large burden on his shoulders,

when his Father became ill …

Time carried the loss with him until he was an old man.

He would ride his black Harley and stand by the tombstone.

Always by himself, he would diligently stay on his knees,

clearing the leaves as though it cleared the pain of loss.

He would place flowers , and later say they would end up missing.

So, he would return to place them again and again.

Now the little brother’s grave will grow silent,

the leaves will start to gather, as no one will be there.

The old man has passed on and will not return.

One would hope, they are walking and talking ,

catching up on the past of eternity of all they have missed.

Now, he is at peace, as he has found his brother and

his brother has found him.