Time may rip up pages from your diary

While the fading ink struggles to be seen

But the phrases of kindness, scribbled or scribed

Will wait for long before they cease


The waves may sweep your traces off the sand

While the sinking sun strives to grace them with gold

But the friend who heard your uplifting words

Needs no tracks to stretch to the skies


The birds may forget your blissful tunes

While the grass sways to the dying airs

But the echoes of your honest speeches

Will reverberate through the trees


The soil may swallow your flesh and bones

But not a mask with another’s paint

I take it off when I write these words

Let these pages feel your breath



– This article was inspired by the book “Forrest Gump” by Winston Groom

Share this on: