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.