Elegy

You send me elegies

but the dead don’t care

they are mist through the trees

dust motes in the sun

shooting star on a clear dark night,

the dead don’t care

& we who remain clutch

at memory.

You drown me with tears

but the dead don’t hear

they’re the whisper of the waves

a glint in the sea, the echo of gull

on storm brewed day

the dead don’t hear

all that useless pain

has simply flown away.

You send me flowers

but the dead don’t see.

Are the colours for you?

Are the textures for me?

I count the years

a rainbow of trails

a fiery red dawn

a smile when you sleep

only noticed because

there is still you & me.