Everything
That ever was
Is still here
In one form
Or another;
Won’t keep us warm,
When winter comes,
But it’s something.
One of these texts
Will be our last,
Though we won’t know,
Till silent weeks
Have floated past.
~*~
Thanks to Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo photo prompt
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Beautiful picture and poem. I love the lines “Everything
That ever was
Is still here
In one form
Or another;”
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I really like this poem. I think this is my favorite of yours.
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Thank you! 🙂
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Thank you, Paula.
A rather tragic poem on the surface, but there are indeed some things that never leave us…
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Yes, so true. Thank you for the inspiration.
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Well, that certainly cheered me up.
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😢
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Lovely.
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Ty 💕
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Lovely! This poem really touched me. Love the imagery throughout! ❤
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Thanks! 😀
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Beautiful poem and a superb picture 🙂
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Thank you 💕
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I like the ambiguity of the ending-who is the we: the text sender or the text receiver? is it the last text because of decline or death? Or change in or death of a relationship? I love the imagery of “Til silent weeks/ Have floated past.”
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Yes, that’s what I intended. Glad it came across 🙂
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So open-ended
Continuity of everything and nothing is comforting somehow
It’s a long game and run
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Yes. Thanks for your insight 💕
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