by Patrick Fiorilli

Artwork by Emily Yue

These days I can but contemplate,

The questions left in life,

Like what you would have done with me

Had I been first to die.

Would you have sneaked me to the coast

And left me by the sea,

That I’d be swept away when next

The tide enveloped me?

Mayhap you would have dragged me through

The woods in search of caves,

Until you found one snug enough

To make a homely grave.

Or yet would you have climbed atop

Some frozen, rocky peak,

And left me in the snow to hear

The heavens softly speak?

Then when the search was over with,

You’d keep the spot in mind,

So when your time was over too,

We’d both be there enshrined.

But look upon my failure, dear,

The box I put you in,

Was never meant to hold a life

As bright as yours has been.

You rest now at the foot of what

Would seem a pleasant hill,

But Oh! the sleep you could have had

Were I of stronger will.

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