When I’m gone,
will you still search for me in verses?
Will you begin
your ritual reverie of shades of Alice?

Will you wish
that you had had that last conversation?
Will you be glad
that my bright light could not, would not

keep without you?

Will you remember
me in the early Spring’s fertile palette?
Will you look
over your shoulder every time someone

looks like me?

Will the sunlight remember my name?
The moon will remember me, always.
The seas will remember me at full tide.

The deserts dried up for want of me;
my wilderness experiences were many.
Forests will painfully rain my name;
Exotic lemon-flowers will sprout in eulogy.

I will be absorbed into yellow blossoms.

Alice Parris

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