Poem for Ina

Ina, Ina our dear friend, Ina

is dead.

The summer sun is shining, children playing,

She is dead.

The autumn leaves are falling, I don my hoodie,

She is dead.

Winter’s snowflakes fall, chilled to the bone,

She is dead.

–               –                –                –                –

The warm spring comes, flowers bloom,

Her body defunct, spirit arisen.

Still still lives, for we are not flesh and bone.


Will we see her again?

Of that, I am sure.


About NickAndrea19

My goal has always been and continues to be the liberation of minds, my own and what influence I may have on others, to perceive the extraordinary beauty all around us. To this end, I write, play music, and design websites. Don't hesitate to contact me for more information about any of these activities. :)
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