Bethany Nikolassy Poet Narrative

The Visit

I visited you today,
At that place where you lay.
I placed flowers and a picture of you and me at your cold headstone.
As I was leaving, the wind picked up,
Throwing my hair in my tear-filled eyes,
That soon streamed down my face,
I tried to t hold them back,
Soon gave up on that.

I am not who I used to be,
I died along time ago, when you had to pass,
With one lingering question.....
Where is the "good" in this "goodbye?" 

I visited you today,
And cried, fighting the tears back.
Trying to figure what good comes from goodbye....

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