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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Last Will and Testament I think ?, I have known all along that one day, you would be gone, as the days – for me – where few, not much left – for me – from you. Everything I have said - you have read. there is not a word - you have not heard, and so my dear, what is there left for me to say to squelch the fear, in some compassionate way ? Brighten up – for you and me – this sad, sad day. The days we have known, now come to an end. count upon you ?, will not know, can not call friend. As you depart, step from my Probe, silver gray, on your way into the light of a brand new day. My soul sits silent – not a word – nothing more to say for it all was – had been said – about the way in which you left me, many times before, and that day. Silence, it appears, is to be my fate, darkened corridors, nothing you state to enlighten – closure, none – no clean slate as you move on, behind you, lock the gate. I leave to L. B. - silence – I bequeath, to her, freedom. Freedom from me, my presence, my thoughts, my feelings. Freedom from my words, my prose and poetry of enlightenment, enlightenments twisted by the prisons, the prisms of her mind that have prevented her from enjoying, - with a clear conscious. This I understand, for I know the life she has chosen in the light of her nurturing, her nature and how they have come together to create the heart and soul of this troubled young lady. I bequeath to Linda, my acceptance, ( disappointing and heartbreaking as this may be ), and my forgiveness ( for all ) for her termination ( in silent avoidance ) of our ?, friendship. I leave to L. B. my heartfelt, best wishes for her new freedom ?, to enjoy the relationship she has been cultivating for some time and for the adventures that may come her way, as I, in specks, in slivers, in flakes, flakes of fading light that vanish from sight as the wind changes and I become not but a distant, fading memory, lost, behind the steel doors of those dark corridors in her memories hoard . Signed this 29th day, in the of our lord, 2004 Wm. J. Atfield Jr. B. J. “A” 2
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