we made a pilgrimage

to the poppies

and the ghosts didn’t pay us one single visit

not even the echoes of your voice

were left out hanging in the dust of the mountains

or caught us when the meadow leaves tickled us- that was not you either

and when I planted the wildflower in the soil it wasn’t for you, but for myself

but the poppy I picked, that was for you..

call it a tribute, Eostre told me to do

it’s the sentiment of rebirth

that perhaps one day you may come back again

and if you do, I will be very happy to see you my friend.





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