Elegy

Standard

For my grandfather.

There is no form to sorrow,
nor rhyme nor language
for your comfort now. We too
are as silent as your sleep,
no words dropping from our lips
to catch our tears.

By the bed, a radio sits
hissing like the range, its
susurration only broken by the clock.
Your slippers are cooling.

Strong in mind, and formerly in body;
now your legacy, as we gather
that strength you give us: to remember,
as we grieve for the time
with you we’ve lost, all
time with you we’ve loved.

Regular updates next week.

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About finalyearfrench

I'm a final year student, studying English and French, having taken the long way round to get there (even if I'm still only 24). This blog was originally started as a class assignment, though I'm quickly finding it an excellent procrastination tool! Definite updates: Mondays on French class, and Tuesdays on Creative Writing class. Scattered updates throughout the rest of the week. Je suis étudiante de lettres, dans l'année finale, ayant pris une trotte d'y arriver! J'ai 23 ans. Nouveaux posts: le lundi sur cours de français, le mardi sur cours d'écriture créative. Posts épars tout au long de la semaine.

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