The Sleeping Vase
He spied a vase, sleeping on top of a shattered, broken pile.
It seemed alone amidst the rubble; its dusty, clay-covered
Surface ached for recognition, but there was none.
Though chipped and dented--scars from the past,
There was no trace of a branching crack.
It slept, remained, and waited for time.
Then, his strong and concerned hand gently lifted the
Sleeping vase from the faded ruins. He could see its
Silent beauty under that chapped surface, for he polished
And cared for it, displayed and treasured it, and put it
On his proudest shelf! The Vase woke up unto itself,
And now shined brilliantly from that special place,
A warm place with the sun; a place it longs to stay forever.
George will be long remembered within the hundreds of people's lives that he touched in innumerable ways. His adopted patron saint was the nature-loving St. Francis, who cared deeply and loved all of Mother Nature's creatures. Like St. Francis, George was thoughtful, generous, positive, kind, gentle, and genuinely humorous. I am very happy I am still here in the warmth of the California sun. Thanks, George.