POEM | BEAUTY | REGRET | AFTERLIFE | SELF

Before The After

A poem of beauty and regret.

When living, I traversed this park, As I’d hurry home to beat the dark.

I never stopped to notice the small, My big problems more important, after all.

That was all before I died, Before my mourning mother cried.

Before I began to truly see, The beauty the ugly has to offer me.

I died some decades ago, The manner of which, tragic and slow.

Now an eternal resident, Finding this colorless world resplendent.

I settle on to this park bench, My skin the rain can no longer drench.

A grey dandelion grips my gaze, The crack in the concrete, it invades.

The living do not take notice The dandelion decorating this small crevice.

A true miracle of nature, Viewed merely as a discarded failure.

Not until everything went grey, Did I see the tenacity in its bouquet.

I will sit here for all the days to come, Taking notice of this fragile blossom.

Even as the concrete jungle does tower, I will give love to this little grey flower.

Perhaps by sharing my mistake, This warning of mine, you will take:

Live and love in color, and laughter, Before you’re forced to meet your grey after.

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