Roses are black and white,
and many hues between.
Violets are dying on this cemetery scene,
sunken in grief as they rest on gravestones,
still as the dirt that covers dead bones.
Your body's rotting, hidden below,
yet your prints remain, and like seeds they grow
beyond my skin where they once landed,
into my heart, to others expanded.
Your immeasurable impact will always last
beyond the gone, unreachable past.
This sad, somber place completely fails
to capture all your full life entails.
A simple dash sums up your living years.
No form or voice in this silent place of tears.
Just a stone memento displays who we lack.
Only memories and time will bring you back.
by Juliet Ligon