The Ghost of You

I went to the bench to sit by your stone,
Today, like many, I felt alone.

Two days - etched - your forever thrown.
One the beginning - the next unknown.

That little dash that sits between
holds the memories and the dreams.

Who were you, what's your name?
Were you free - or - full of shame?

I went to the bench to sit by your stone-
Is there more than a box filled with brittle bones?

The ghost of you - strange to me,
Speaks in silence;
The wind. The trees.

'Your soul is what is left behind,
It knows no difference between an hours time.'

A life worth living is all you can share -
Yet, how few of us truly dare?

I went to the bench to sit by your stone.
A pile of dirt or an infinite soul?

That little dash pulled me in.
The days that pass,
The minutes won't last.

Who were you, what's your name?
Were you free or full of shame?

Did you live well, did you sin?
Was it worth it in the end?