| Alone On this earth you are Alone No one around To tell you What to do Alone No Conversation Only the sound Of Emptiness Alone All Alone Where is the life I used to know Where are the people I used to hold Maybe they too Are alone By Larry Francisco Dedicated to Emerson Melbourne I wrote this poem after I found out that Emerson was flown to Billings. I had known him when my mom married him back in 1989. We moved to Bismarck, ND and Emerson started drinking. He never hit us or anything but I started not to like him anymore. In 1995 they divorced and I was happy. I never saw him until i came back to Wolf Point a couple of years earlier. I felt bad after i heard he was sick and wrote this poem because he used to drink with my uncle and he had just died the year before. At his funeral his aunt mentioned how much he really did love us like his own. I couldn't hold back the tears and I noticed my sister crying also because he never treated us mean but I was always mean to him. So wherever you are Emerson. I'M SORRY. |