You know the crossroad very well
You cross it every day, by bike, in your way to work.
A big crossroad is not, neither a special one.
It´s small, humble, an ordinary one.
That´s why you were struck when you saw that Police notice:
“Fatal accident, if you have witnessed something please contact us”.
Week in- week out
You see fresh flowers
Attached to the lamppost
In the middle of the crossroad.
Someone even wrote a poem
Mourning the dead son.
Months passed by and today
You rode by there again.
There is the bunch of fresh flowers
There the hurting poem, wrapped in cello tape
So the rain doesn´t corrupt
An incorruptible feeling.
Every time you see it
It gives you goosebumps
Someone really did lose
A certain number in the calendar
Brings sour memories to someone
A cyclic pain
The need of placing flowers
Flowers that will ease the pain
At least a bit
An I Love You to the gone one
A You Are With Me
An I Don´t Forget You.