Forget that I stood at your grave,
Let the grace of my tears water plants
Around the radius of your headstone.

Be reminded of the memory of dried eyes,
Whence I was still holding your palms
And the photographs aren’t faced down.

Remember me for when I was happy
Not the man at your gravestone today,
Be reminded of me with you
Rather than the me without you.

Remember how the daisies still grow.

What held by all as nothing
Remains the most memorable part of me
And what could be given up so easily
Is what I cling on with my life.