…And when the grains fall and life
ebbs within the final beats
As angels call the finest greet, as
clouds disperse and memories flow,
What will you have to show?
The fearsome tales of love so close,
A life lived…Well most?
A bucket list of words not said, love not told,
A constellation of getting old.
Monochrome map in hues of safe
Kept moments never run late.
A drawer of wishes, dandelions delight
Dreams reserved only for night?
The angels will invent new colours in my name,
They’ll blush with pride at this spirit untamed.
Their ink will run dry as they scribe my tales,
The wins, near wins and even the fails.
With fearless exploration I will devour my days,
No feeling will pass where i do not say…
Passion will be my ink, love will be my pen
And the angels will all whisper….”and then?,”
Image and word’s.