ABOUT A BURIAL
And she said,
“I’ll wait for you…”
As she swirled away cheerily.
Her hair, which swayed along the gentle gust of wind, steadied to veil her gradual receding silhouette, as she paced closer to the vagueness of her destination. And that hint of sweet mockery on her smile, etched itself deeper into my memory.
“I’ll wait for you…”
It resounded once more.
But after that, I remembered her lips mouthing off more words. I could have not discerned it of yet, though the lingering puzzlement of its nature had made me deem it of importance. An importance which more so supplied a presumption.
“Was it farewell?”
I asked myself, as I sat up from the fresh scent of the newly hollowed out soil of my grave.
“Am I dead…?”