Wooden Cross

wooden_cross.mp3

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by Zackwell

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I woke up today and I decided to take a walk down to the memorial field, for old times sake.
It was there that I saw the remains of a bouquet of supermarket flowers, hiding a small wooden cross whose words, written with sharpie, had faded in the weather.
I can only wonder who still chooses to come out here and place flowers and crosses at the wayside, when whatever morbid incident that inspired this shrine has long since faded from the memory of the public.
I assume whoever it was who died was well loved, because the price tag on the flowers puts the bouquet at a respectable tenner.
I wonder, if I died here now, how much would my memory be worth in flowers? Fiver maybe, if a nice enough bunch was reduced at tesco.
I guess it gets the point across, cuz I'm thinking about whoever it was now.
Maybe tonight I'll drink to their memory, and the continuation of my own.
So here's to you stranger, if we meet someday just know that you owe me a pint.

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