Remembering Merly.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

and i still remember
Merly, her name, the one
she gave me, am not sure,
but for the meantime that
is her: sweet and young
and beautiful but not
educated and hailing from
the poverty of the
people.

she is not a lover of words,
as she is more into action,
and she hates personal history
and she does not care about
what you will say.

she wanted to do things quickly
and she likes the goodbyes and
see you later and perhaps someday
we meet again in another day
another place.

she died at such a young age
murdered by anonymity and
life moves on and she becomes
another one forgotten but not
me, and as you see i make a
monument of her in words,
without tears and bruises.