highgate

He took me
on my last day
to the cemetery.
We looked
at the graveyards
in silence
just guessing
who those people
had been.
We stopped
in front of
some phantoms
who had dreamt
and won
and others
-they had lost.
He taught me
how to listen
to the breath of death.
(But tonight
i'm lying on my bed,
understanding)
He took me
on my last day
to the cemetery.
He told me
without words
we were dead.
But memories
in us
and memories
and others
would somehow
remember
our story
forever.




Poetry by emily chambers
Read 938 times
Written on 2007-06-05 at 19:24

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Zoya Zaidi
Yes, we live and relive in our memories...
That is the beauty of memories- they are forever...
With time they take a fairy-tale like quality of their own...
Read my poem ' Crimean Shores' if you find time and inclination- it is about such memories...

(((Hugs Emily)))
I hope you live up to your name, 'Emily', one day!
(I am alluding to the Bronte' of course!)
Love, Zoya
2007-06-06