Our Kansas Journey

Our first summer together, I asked you out.
We went canoeing in that diversion in Oakdale
Park in Salina, Kansas.
Hydrangeas, chrysanthemums, and asters planted in rows
around the gazebos, a multicolored feast.
The water was not deep but clear. The banks were clean and trees
stood like sentries as we rowed.
The ambience of summer still as we talked in that
park so long ago.
The old wooden bridges that shook when we walked were held by chains.
We often went to that park on a hill not far away. It overlooked
a treeless city then. In the distance were the hazy smoky hills barely
seen from there.
On the higher hill to the east, we spent evenings overlooking the
lights in the
distance above the small canyon created by the national guard
with its small waterfalls all of this on what was then the east side
of the city.
Surrounding us were the hills with their history.
Salina, once little more than a trading post but now a micropolitan
where we met.
Our adopted home where our journey began.
You passed away in the "Star on the Prairie" built by a con artist,
home of Strataca, Hutchinson (Smallville), Kansas, in hospice when I
held your hand.
There were places we never went through nearby.