Your deeds swim in my head
So much so the taste lingers
In my mouth
I close my eyes and see
the sight, the horror
I smell the brisk fire
And inhale the dried sand
And,
And,
And,
I wonder how much of me
is truly left.
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When bones turn to ash
ReplyDeleteAnd deeds feel too heavy
And eyes that were closed
open
And smells inhaled leave memories stained
I wonder... I wonder...
how any one could know how much is left of me?~CP
I love the poem you have written on this blog and it inspired the one I just wrote. Thank you for the inspiration your words are beautiful.