Dig.

My memories are like seeds…

That have been cut in half.

Half of them grew

Half of them didn’t

And the ones that remain

Somehow wedged in the Earth,

Are broken.

They shift

They change shape

As they long to grow

To see the Sun.

When It’s Time.

There will come a day

When I hear the birds

For a final time.

Will the clock still

Tick without me?

It did for you…

And now I sit

And wait for it

Each morning to

Somehow bring you

Back…

This clock

That was yours.

This time that is still ours somehow

Together…

The birds still chirp.

I think of you.