thought

perhaps it is best

if I sit quietly

say nothing

wait

hope

wish

     

post script

patiently indecisive

on purpose

dead

The winter in my heart

was that late fall

when your soul

did depart

ghostly memory

I knew the day you died

the last breath you took

it came right as recess began

I sat in that second grade class

staring out the window as a tear ran

then I just cried 

and cried