For The Best
The Moon Howls At The Wolf
A story about rememberance.
The wooden door flies open;
A child frantically clings to its handle.
It screams for you to return to them
With a voice reeking of desperation.
And while tiny feet scrape the rough concrete,
Leaving minuscule traces that they were once here,
You know that all evidence of you has been erased.
Except for that one screaming child
Who will soon hush and grow up.
Truly, this was for the best.
Author's Note: Written on September 26th 2011 for my little-est sister. Your the best ever, and although you dedication seems a little extreme at times, it inspired this poem, which I think is totally awesome. But let me know what you think guys! Feedback is alway welcome and appreciated whether it is negative or positive! And advance thank you too you guys who read my work!