Sunday, October 30, 2011

A Poem For Me

When  you stand in front of their grave,
then think of me

When you read their old and familiar names
that I have called and spoken so many times
now chisseled in the green-blue stone,
then think of me

The pain and suffering given as a heavenly gift to me,
because of my love for them
is buried right there, in the ground with them

So, that is the reason why, 
when once again on a Sunday afternoon,
you stand in front of their grave
Do also think of me
and say my name

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