When the time of telling and asking are done,
All that is left is the remembering…
I can no longer tell you of my love.
I can no longer ask your opinion.
The halls of your life lived here are silent.
But the memories speak to me softly,
And linger to remind me, “ Learn from this teacher.”
Death is never finished with the living.
In our disregard, it steals without reprimand,
Until the still halls of our soft remembering are made again alive in a joyful gathering.
All that is left is the remembering…
I can no longer tell you of my love.
I can no longer ask your opinion.
The halls of your life lived here are silent.
But the memories speak to me softly,
And linger to remind me, “ Learn from this teacher.”
Death is never finished with the living.
In our disregard, it steals without reprimand,
Until the still halls of our soft remembering are made again alive in a joyful gathering.
by Traci Barton
(Inspired by the poem Thanatopsis by William Cullen Bryant)
#poetry #justwrite
(Inspired by the poem Thanatopsis by William Cullen Bryant)
#poetry #justwrite
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