When I am old

Remember When, digital illutration, boy Roland

By Grace De Prophetis

When I am old will this river know my name,

when I am old will the sky remember me, 

who walked through spring and winter without aim,

who dove into the currents for the sea 

When I am old will the forest harbour me, 

when I am old will the grass regret 

how I walked across its back so tenderly, 

or will they too grow old and so, forget?