Can you feel?
The white sun on your skin
A light on your face
Casting shadows on your detail
Wrinkled skin and bone,
Now dust, once ever bone
~
Can you hear them?
Your children, they call
They laugh yet they cry
What memories to last
In your stillborn wake
But we always die
~
Can you still see?
The smiles of them all
Down they look
Grace upon your fragile face
Eyes of gray,
A heart held in every gleam
~
Can you still taste?
The air on your lips
The salt of waters
Ones your soul ever kissed
Your dust submerged deep
Your soul it shall keep
~
Can you still smell?
The dewy, soaked grass
A rare droplet on a petal
Remnants of a summer rain
Bringing life with each ping
Your voice, a fragile ring
~
Alas, I fear
Your absence not so sweet
Your letter I wear
On my palm to near
Each toil in your wake
