My Prayer.

Maybe I'm crazy because I still carry your Chapstick in my pocket.

Sometimes I put it on my lips, because it tastes like you.

Often I look down at my left hand and sigh because it's much too light. 

And I remember how we would have said our "I do's" just a week from now. 

But every night, when I say my prayers, I say a special one for you. 

It's not bitter. I'm no longer angry.

I simply ask God that He'll bless you and keep you,

And that someday you'll  do great things for Him.