If you should go before me,
I’ll re-read every line you ever wrote to me,
every thought we shared so late at night,
the daily noise of our existence,
condensed into keystrokes by weary fingers
I’ll see, in every moonlit glade,
and every time
there are no shadows in the trees,
that special light that always made you shine,
like bright little stars suspended in a globe filled with oil,
shimmering with delight and forgiveness,
waiting patiently to climb the wick
and burn my fingers when I strike the match
And I’ll hear your music,
which you never knew I listened to,
not with my ears, but with my heart,
and it will soothe me to dreamless slumber
when tears soak my pillow in endless twilight
I’ll remember every hungered kiss and every time
you found me hiding under our oak and scolded me
for putting off the work I should have been doing
I won’t put it off any longer
There’ll be nothing left for me but work
All the world gone grey, the mists
of my memories
like a blanket
smothering my tomorrows
But I won’t leave when you have gone
I will pay the tab for the time you gave,
finish everything we planned that autumn morn,
before I lock the gate behind me,
and follow breadcrumbs scattered on the loam
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 12:30 PM UTC
If you should go before me,
I’ll re-read every line you ever wrote to me,
every thought we shared so late at night,
the daily noise of our existence,
condensed into keystrokes by weary fingers
I’ll see, in every moonlit glade,
and every time
there are no shadows in the trees,
that special light that always made you shine,
like bright little stars suspended in a globe filled with oil,
shimmering with delight and forgiveness,
waiting patiently to climb the wick
and burn my fingers when I strike the match
And I’ll hear your music,
which you never knew I listened to,
not with my ears, but with my heart,
and it will soothe me to dreamless slumber
when tears soak my pillow in endless twilight
I’ll remember every hungered kiss and every time
you found me hiding under our oak and scolded me
for putting off the work I should have been doing
I won’t put it off any longer
There’ll be nothing left for me but work
All the world gone grey, the mists
of my memories
like a blanket
smothering my tomorrows
But I won’t leave when you have gone
I will pay the tab for the time you gave,
finish everything we planned that autumn morn,
before I lock the gate behind me,
and follow breadcrumbs scattered on the loam
