(After Anyte)
He is still in my first memories,
the man that folds me into his arms
who I do not want to let go
but with his death comes the mourning,
the going away that a child does not understand,
do not know how death and life does go on
as he is gone and had disappeared out of my life
where I stand at the open grave with a multitude.
He is still in my first memories,
the man who from instinct I did trust with everything
and he is missing did go into death
where I do only cling to mere moments of him
but darkness does come for everything that does exist
and empty my years go on without him.
[Reference:"Erato" by the Greek poetess Anyte 300 BC.]
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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