Seven word story – Now that I am gone.

Observe yourself; poetic, now that I’m gone
-W.E.

Why fret?
Why regret?
Look at all the prose,
You’ve typeset.

What would you prefer?
Union, arid of tongue,
Or Barren,
Endless poems to be sung?

With me, I was a veil,
Now severed masts,
Free, windless,
With waves you sail.
-W.E.