the casket is open
i am old
frail
weak.
i see your closed eyes
unmoving.
i miss the shades of brown
yet,
i will watch
as they place you into the dirt
and i will sit
beside your headstone
i will lean against it
and i will be there
until i am withered
starved
tired
weak.
i will die beside you.
and we will meet again.
YOU ARE READING
the poems from the heart.
Poesíai write from the heart, words spill out as i type mindlessly, i love to write, and if you're like me, or even not at all. enjoy the words i share, and find love in mine.
