Abbey

I dreamt I was in the garden of death;
Wandering in the silence
Of a thousand absences.
Here amid the broken dreams
Broken smiles, broken stones
Is your eternal smile.

Thinking of you and remembering
How things were,
How things should have been.
Tears like rain nourish the death-rose;
A solitary monument
To one whose bloom was much too short.

At the stone I crouch
And touch my fingers to your name
Longing
To dig deep into the earth,
Open that wooden box
And find you, waiting.

But the truth is
I don’t know where you are.

- Jamie Pfhal