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.
