June 27, 2011
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White roses,
black dresses,
Crying surrounds me.
I can see and hear,
but reaching out
and touching,
they can't feel me.
I look out
at my hand.
Transparency looks back.
Don't remember...
How did I leave?
Did I fall in the line of duty?
Or did I fade away slowly?
Did I wither,
like a summer rose in September?
To the casket I glide,
afraid of what I would find.
I see myself.
Blond hair cascades around my head.
A dark blue dress with white flowers,
over white tights to the middle of my calves.
Blue PF Flyers complete me.
I am gone.
It will be as if I was never there.

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