"I wrote this poem after attending Hands of Hope Camp. This experience was very moving and touched me in many ways.
If you are not familiar with Hands of Hope Camp, it is a grief awareness program for youth of all ages who have experienced the loss of a loved one.
I spent most of my time with a 5 year old little girl whose dad had died of a heart attack who was 38-years-old. The little girl drew a pic of a purple dress and told me that she was worried that when it no longer fit her that it might mean that she would forget about her daddy.
I was able to put this touching experience into words."
The color of sky setting in the evening on a cold, winter's day.
The hue of the soft, sugary cotton at the Carnival each May.
The shade of royalty draped over the cross, to remind us of a King.
The pigment of the amethyst that sparkles in the new light of Spring.
The stain of liquid sweetness when it drenches my tongue.
The glow of an orchid in Mother's corsage when she was young.
Beautiful tinted reminders of my Dad from years gone by,
The little purple dress I wore to tell him goodbye.
It hangs in my closet to this very day.
Thirty years have passed and this Earth remains my stay.
Purple and bright, its fabric remains,
with soft ruffles and sequins that adorned my petite frame.
I wore it only once, on a cool Monday morn'.,
Its skirt blew in the breeze, but its sleeves kept me warm.
This memory has long since taken a place,
in the back hall of my mind, between time and space.
My little purple dress continues to hang on a hook,
In my heart, in my home, in my closet, where everyday, I look.