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
Like the ocean
ever grasping the shore
Is anything permanent? Infinite?
Does hope has a time limit?
forgets or is forgotten.
Later that evening
I scattered seeds…