Literature
Already Gone
"Hi there, Dag..."
I whisper it silently in the breeze, your name again, only for my words to be almost lost in the wind. It's that kind of weather today again, fit for the Autumn season. Samantha told me to take a umbrella with me, but I was too stubborn to listen, too proud to hide myself under such accessories. I'm a soldier, I can handle it. And... I don't want people to see the tears I cry.
It's better for them to believe it's the rain.
I can't forget your face,
the day, the time, the place,
Your little stone slab doesn't do you any justice, Dag. A little plaque isn't enough to display the pride in your name. You