Pen on paper, 2017 (edited with Pixlr)
Memory
by Jaundré M. van Breda
A smile grows from a tear
like a decade grows from a year
among the ruins of a smile
while we reap the stars.
A tear grows from a sadness
the world no longer knows,
another December the angels
no longer remember.
'Not all those we bury are dead,'
she said in a voice spilling over me.
'You see,' she whispered reassuringly,
'Everything is exactly as it should be.'
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