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A Tombstone

by Christopher Shin

What we are and what we
could be is only based
on the rememberance of others.
The first impressions and
the last seem to tie
us to our past.

We are immortals in
the memories of those who
held us most dear or those
who desired nothing
but our own down fall.

As the sun slithers and
sinks into the clouds that
blanket the days of my life,
I can only ponder over
my own memories.

Of people I knew when I was
a boy and now a man.
Sometimes I could remember
the smell of a winter day,
or the smell of fresh dew.

Sometimes I get lost in
my vivid memories of her.
Her soft white milky skin,
and the millions of stars
in her mouth as they flash
against the sun.

Most of the time I regret
about growing old so fast.
At first I held and fought
so dearly to stay forever young.
But in that battle I became
more ancient.

I regret that youth is spoiled
on the very young,
and I can only watch my youth
melt away like ice on a plate.
For every moment I try to
remember and recapture my
youth is every moment I loss
a piece of my mind.

And the grass sways against me
and I stand like a stone.
The rememberance of my name
is all that seems to keep
me bound in time for all
times and immortality.

11/19/2003

Posted on 11/19/2003
Copyright © 2022 Christopher Shin

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Melinda Sordino on 11/20/03 at 02:33 AM

i love the descriptions at the end...i too feel like i am made of cold, hard stone...

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