Falklands 82


Cherry lips
Whose sweet caress,
I miss your touch.

Soft and gentle
Like your voice,
No last words.

Nor fond farewell
Just death’s,
Cold embrace.

All the while
Neath these grey rocks,
My bones lie.

Twenty years have past
My baby grown,
Her now?

With children of her own
While I lie,
8000 miles from home. 
Giajl © Jim Love 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Apparently the Greeks reckon that if you still speak a dead person's name , they are not really dead.
At least they're not forgotten.
Like so many are.

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Trefor Morgan's picture

I wonder what would have been if those who I knew had lived. What would they be now?
The embrace I saw was in burials at sea and in memorial services to those lost without trace.
The memories of them is at home and stays there until we die. With writing them down they live on in a wider memory.
This one is evocative to me