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J Fawn Apr 2018
I remember most vividly
two memories with you.

One when you told me
he would be my father
and I had to call him father.
But it was you, and you
were always right.

One when you saw me
and remembered my name
and I loved you in that moment.
Because you know many names, but you
still remembered mine.

I remember most fuzzily
memories that are mostly hearsay.

You carried me as a baby
You fed me and bathed me and clothed me and you
taught me wisdom in every action
and I
will never finish learning it all.

I remembered most vividly,
two memories with you.
But today it is

One more

when I saw you
and remember you loved me in every moment
and even as you will never see me again
and even as I will learn many names

I will remember yours.
Written at the funeral of a family friend. She was like a grandmother to me, and a great many other people.
J Fawn Apr 2018
the sound of
    scritching and
                 scratching
  creaking and cracking
                          hounds me
                   even if it is merely
                          echoes of thought
                      in the examination hall
where you promised that I would not
                                                                ­ fal
                                                             ­       ter

the sound of
  squeaking and
               scratching
  clicking and clacking
                    surrounds me
                   even if it is surely
                     bellows of ambition
                    between the office walls
where you promised that I would not
                                                                ­fal
                                                             ­      ter


                                                           ­        as I
                                                               stand
                                                      at the edge
             where the whistling wind beckons
                   me to the chattering city below
                        I promise you that I will not

                                                            ­               fall
J Fawn Apr 2018
Shadows snake across the bed

trailing in the wake of your absence

crinkled and wrinkled the sheets of clay, your face

baked in the sun, nothing is hidden

your cup is dry, your essence drawn out of you

leaving behind brown, and

snakes of shadows.

— The End —