By: Foxseaone~ `

 We plant the seeds
 knowing at the end of the summer
 they will bloom, wilt and wither.
 I sit by her bedside
 knowing this is all we have left
 as she rambles on about nothing.
 Which is everything.
 Would anyone notice if I left?
 If I never returned?
 If she did?
 Soon she won’t remember me.
 Our conversations have already disappeared.
 Only the unspoken ones in my head
 swirl unanswered.
 Like the ocean
 ever grasping the shore
 eternal, relentless,
 yet unsure.
 Is anything permanent? Infinite?
 Does hope has a time limit?
 forgets or is forgotten.
 Later that evening
 I scattered seeds…
 still hopeful.
 C.S. Fox