While I still breathe, I write to save my life
in compact form; mistakes, the lessons learned,
triumphant days and nights of needless strife
brought on by willful dreams and bridges burned.
One day too soon, a final page will turn,
the book will close. My fine and fragile chain
to life will break. A loneliness unearned
will mark your passing days in ink of pain.
Then if you wish to hear my voice again
one silent morning when you wake alone,
I leave you songs and poems. Each refrain
will resurrect the soul you've always known.
So when my fated moment shall arrive,
my words are here; come read me back alive.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 11:16 AM UTC
While I still breathe, I write to save my life
in compact form; mistakes, the lessons learned,
triumphant days and nights of needless strife
brought on by willful dreams and bridges burned.
One day too soon, a final page will turn,
the book will close. My fine and fragile chain
to life will break. A loneliness unearned
will mark your passing days in ink of pain.
Then if you wish to hear my voice again
one silent morning when you wake alone,
I leave you songs and poems. Each refrain
will resurrect the soul you've always known.
So when my fated moment shall arrive,
my words are here; come read me back alive.
ne m'oublie pas - forget me not.
Spenserian sonnet.
