Lawrence Hamblett
Harvest Moon
A farmer plants his fields in spring with sweat on weathered brow
Trails behind an oxen team pulling an ancient plow
He prays for sun, he prays for rain, expects his crops to grow
Believes in God, shares his faith, can never really know
Where do we go
When we are no more
A restless soul departs
Leaving behind
A river so wide
Of lost and heavy hearts
And how can we stand
When that gentle laugh
Gone from the Jersey Shore
One day at a time
Rhythm no rhyme
We will miss you
Forevermore
Harvest Moon
Done too soon
Patricia was born on November 24th; I was born on November 23rd in the same year. I always thought that that was so cool, an immediate connection. Patricia once told me, that as a teenager, when summering at the Jersey Shore, she and her friends would walk the boardwalk backwards to annoy all the troublesome tourists. (Sound like Pat?) She made me laugh. Whenever I hear Pure Prairie League’s song "Amie", I still think of her. Many of the happiest moments of my life were spent being with Patricia. We loved the Chesapeake Bay together. Kayaking with her; bicycling with her; talking with her; dancing with her; all the movies and dinners we enjoyed together! One helluva woman! I loved her technicolor shoes, and the blue suede ones she bought at the thrift shop to wear to the Mad Men-themed community happy hour. Such warm memories Patricia had given to me. She made me happy. And that’s a damn fine thing to be able to say about anyone. I will never forget you, Patricia. Look at you.