The will

All the words you wrote me are now dead
and almost buried in the sand next to the cats
the dogs, two hamsters and a parrot.

At the deathbed of your written words I cried
but now and then a bit of life came back to them,
in which I thought they asked me to forgive you.

Now soil is spread above them, they can rot.
I think I’ll skip the mourning part for good,
it’s best forgotten how you wrote me into love.

I have inherited their images of you,
it was their will that I must always know
your words were true once. And I do.

Comments on: "The will" (7)

  1. The truth, even buried, will refuse forgetting. What was once is always – even in the earth…

  2. Love this line especially:
    ‘it’s best forgotten how you wrote me into love.’ XO

  3. Talk about the different perspective time can bring to an event. Powerful stuff

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