How would you like to be remembered, Marcus.
As a caricature, a portrait, a monochrome abstract..
An outline in the sand that the wind will slowly fill with its own stories?
When it’s over, there’s just a blank canvas. People recreate memories. For themselves. For others. Forever.
I want to be remembered for the little things, the things that I have forgotten. Something I screamed to the storm when lightning streaked all the way down to the sea, cutting open the sky. Something I wrote when the new mango leaves, brown and shiny, began to curl around the melting sun. Something I whispered when the wave waited a moment longer before it…why are you smiling?
How many people know, how many can read your mind?
That depends Marcus. How well can you paint?
is it the pink shimmer of dawn
or just the tearful moon
kissing the roses goodbye