I will cut down this tree,
to make the stake where I write your name.
I shall bury it in earth,
and mark the place your memory will stay.
The flowers may come with time,
but not with me.
Only runoff will unearth you,
as I will run away.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 7:49 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem