I lay my head upon the grass,
The ripe green sod of May.
Two long years so quickly pass
Yet the sorrow feels fresh today.
The pang feels sharp and grey.
I whisper words in hopes you'll hear,
You lay a mere six feet away.
I water the earth with every tear
As I listen for what you'll say.
I hear silence to my dismay.
I feel a drop, then a few more,
Soon I'm drenched but unaware.
This sudden but fitting downpour
Reflects my hearts despair;
Mirrors my vacant stare.
The distant horn grows louder now,
Our time is wearing thin.
I've done it once, now twice somehow
I whisper goodbye again,
Then boarding the train, I grin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem