Your ashes came in a box today. The woman behind the counter just handed over the box as if YOU weren’t in there. We ride home together and I’m talkin to you because I feel you there.

We get home and I take you out of the box and there your physical resides. You sat inside of the squared box urn and it’s still surreal.

YOU’re not in the box, your Spirit is boundless sometimes laying beside me, visiting me while I sleep, make no mistake I’ll weep for you until our souls meet, reunite, right around twilight again.

-Weeping Mother

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