I recently wrote this for Kaitlyn
The Birds and the Flowers
I stand over your grave that was made way too early for you,
I run my fingers on the grass & dirt they covered you with,
I feel in my fingers the energy that was and what could have been, the wisest soul that I ever knew.
Only a marker with your name is at the end of your grave,
A picture of a young woman that should not be lying there,
Lying, lying in a grave.
But you’re not there. You are in the beautiful swamp birds that we always loved to look at when we drove by,
Those beautiful white birds that I seek so desperately now,
I see them as they fly to the swamp from the sky.
I see you in the flowers that they plant beside the roads, of all the bold colors, the flowers that you loved so much,
I believe if I would, I could feel you in their touch.
But sometimes things so beautiful don’t have long on this Earth,
Such as the white birds and the delicate flowers.
For they are too beautiful to remain
But for only what seems like hours.
But I stand over your grave that was made too early for you,
And run my fingers over the grass and then,
Still weeping for what could have been.