If it were for me,
I’d search between pages and pages
of your old notebooks
until with each turn
the yellow old pages
became dust in my hands


if it were for me,
I’d gather the dust in a jar,
just to pretend
the dust from those yellow old pages
were the remains of you,
your ashes,

And if I could,
I’d take that jar to the ocean.
And as I stand atop a cliff,
I”d throw the ashes
to the wind.
And as the wind
scatters them through the waves,
your ashes, that is,
I’d see them vanish
through the tides,
just as I saw the yellow old pages
in your notebooks,
vanish in my hands

just like I saw you, in a summer time,
vanish from my life.


Though if it were for me,

I’d search through the yellow old pages,

as a means of experiencing

a proper Good-bye…

Written by: L.L.

2014

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