LETTER
Seeing the end coming, I am writing
in this book, from my page to yours.
Know that in my mind, you will be
safe and content, a future full of trees,
ageless seawater breathing in and out
echoing the bright moonlight. Every
footprint and shadow left behind,
clouds gazed upon, birds seen and fed,
poems read aloud, road signs dutifully
noted and obeyed, marks my presence,
stories shared that are meant to last but
lost in songs written and forgotten.
These are your heritage, legacy of
generations of dreaming, daring youth
fighting for what is yet to take shape
in their eyes, blades of grass standing
tall and proud in front yards decorated
with rows of blood red poppies. Lest
we forget the bygone nights and the days
to come, among empty chairs and tables
stained with love for words and music.
(Image: “Poppy Red honours our dead on Remembrance Day“, EternityNews.com.au)
Voices under the Sun 陽光下的聲音 