THINK ONLY THIS OF ME

Kisten to things,dead and living.

The moon might be blue,

Dust in the sea,

or whispersin the weeds.

Only this should be shown,

written or told of.

Dont call me blessed,

for my epitaph a droning frown.

You should think only this,

”A good lad,he tried”

No tears ,no wails,

just dig and let me lie.

Home from nowhere,

home without breath,

another grey owl

hooting in the dark of the trees.

kyalo.