Immortality 3

...and someday I will 

become a forgotten 

memory, archived 

in tombstones with 

reluctant lilies squinting

in the murmur of the sun,

their desire to kiss

the wind, where ashes 

float from the last 

remembered hands.

When the pages of 

the calendar turn, the 

rain announces another

year of my return in the 

cracks of the old home

where the child in the 

picture refuses to grow. 

Another song will bid the 

year good bye to the 

dead, another repetition 

awaits the living.  

There is no memory in the wind

I taste the solitude. 

It's a house with 

many doors, none 

a paean of the

memory you so 

dutifully preserved. 

It's cold, the verses 

have gone silent; the

frost in the wind 

settles reluctantly

on tired lips. 
The air sweating 
time like mist on 
closed windows. How 
long will we brush 
the dust of silence
under the duvet? 
How long the dream 
be our sole memory? 
The smile I adorned 
was a stolen dream. The 
shoes have been discarded, 
the dust wiped out clean. 
The vagabonds of years 
past return home, the 
memory a deep 
longing;searching for 
places to hide.