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Gérard Blain, October 23, 1930 – December 17, 2000.

A very long walk

That begins with a crawl,

A toddle and tumble.

But we walk on,

Sometimes to trip or fall,

Sometimes to run and laugh

Throwing our faces up to the sky

And our voices to the wind.

Friends come and go

Through the very long walk,

Our paths meeting,

Sometimes parting,

Sometimes meeting again,

Sometimes not.

But we weather the days we have

Finding comfort and joy

In togetherness.

When we meet the one,

The one to walk with us,

The one to hold our hand,

The one whose arms we fill

When the nights are cold,

The one to comfort

When their tears fall,

Trail of diamonds

On a porcelain cheek.

This is when we feel

The value of our lives.

We walk through the spring,

Our eyes on the long blades of grass

Reaching for the sun

The smell of life and beginnings

Filling up our souls;

We walk through the summer,

Lazy in the heat

Warmed by that sun

Which coaxed the blossoms from buds

Opening their petals to offer themselves

Freely, gladly;

We walk through the fall,

And the green leaves breathe their last

In a riot of color as they languish

The tree yawns and stretches bare branches

To sleep, just for a while;

We walk through the winter,

And the cold is bitter

The days of spring and life gone

The quiet deafening, a fog with no edges

But still we hold hands: it vanquishes our fear.

And when our walk is done,

The miles behind us,

A trail of footprints

Converging, parting;

When we look behind us

At all that has passed,

The ones we love,

What we leave behind,

What we cherish,

Is what makes our lives