Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing


Your ashes take flight,

flirting with every flower you find,

in a garden that is mine,

mine alone.

It could have been yours,

if you didn’t descend,

desecrated plastic,

permanently banished.



leap into the air,

as ashes,

and I give birth to a girl,

Bambi legs,

brown eyes,

that find the future,

in the setting sun.

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