Thursday, 28 July 2011

All That Remains


Picked up ashes
They run like sand through my fingers,
Dark sand
Like the shores of Tahiti.

Volcanic black remains
A place where our story began
Love and tenderness intermingled.

White bone,
Black ash,
And specks of golden wood.

Weighing as much as our babies
But heavier by far,
The weight of the world
Encompassed in a shoe box.

The depth of our love
To be blown on the wind.

1 comment:

  1. Oh goodness Sarah what a moving poem! Again I cry with you. Huge hugs
    xxx

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