As expected, you died.
No mysterious tragedy.
I promised I wouldn’t cry.
Vivaciously intertwined with
the untamed, the souls who are alive;
body carried out
with the songs of your life, leaving doubt.
They expected you would die
But you showed me the Moon when I was three.
And you told me to dance for her
because she often felt lonely.
You revealed other things—
how to make mud pies
and why some creatures have wings.
You own some too, they tell me.
They kept saying it was expected.
Even if I can’t accept it,