Me, myself and I.
The end of the line, the last Mohican.
So dust me over the pretentious grave
where my grandfather F. W, my father Fred,
and his brother Ben, cluster together.
They were belivers - not I.
But instinct tells me I should be with them;
If irreligiously.
Ancestral yes... always... meanwhile the visit is to the hospital bed.. it is not the same as the grave... perspective... think nurses not corpses..! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's times like this when outcomes are unknown that thoughts like this tend to float to the surface. Be careful they don't become habitual. History is all very well (intriguing too sometimes) but now is a much more important place to be. And now is all there is, really... love you. Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥