Standing in the middle row
the rain fell like tears, the tears like rain.
I stood silently as an epitaph was preached out among the many listeners.
Everyone faded, all that was left was her memory and I,
No more will she laugh.
No more will she cry.
No more will she be.

Choking on my own breath.
The voices around me burn down to a mere ringing.
Lost, Scared, Empty.
The epitaph is over.
No more will we hear her.
No more will we walk together.
No more will we share moments.

As the crowd dissipated I forsook my pride.
I let down my body to her grave, and kissed it.
A tear tried to escape me. To fall on her stone.
I wiped it quickly. The last thing I would give to her was my love. Not a tear.


J. Andrew Day