Walking through wildflowers in spring,
My throat red-raw from screaming your name.
Walking in the footsteps of ghosts,
Running my fingers across the bark that you touched.
Echoes of us still swirl around in the wind,
Or at least in skies in my mind.
For each twig snapping, leaf moving, I turn around expecting you there.
How can I pick up the book you’ll never finish?
Or watch a play that you’ll never see.
It’s clichéd but without you, there’s really no me,
When we danced our little fingertips across that globe,
I truly imagined all the places we’d go,
Now you’ll never move again.
The first morning was worst,
When I woke up to the sounds of the hearse,
Because then I had to remember all over again.
Wet rain and black skies in summer,
The world carries on, but I stand still, just getting numb-er
An empty shell of lost wanderlust,
And missing you –
Flesh to bone, steel to rust
Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust-