Visit me under the bare oak
on the shaded hill.
Nothing worth more than
my earthly dwellings.
It is an empty hole,
I have returned to dust.
Dust cannot respect the
dreary dead flowers.
Bring me your love
so that I may see her.
Tell her stories of my quiet moments
and sweetest quirks.
Visit me on the hill even though
I will not be there.
Visit the empty space that I was.
And remember.
No comments:
Post a Comment