Wooden Deceit

The wind was blowing softly, and I sat down on the neglected wooden swing in the backyard. Green leaves popped out of the decaying section of the next tree. Swinging back and forth, I thought about what we would all write on your headstone. My words seemed harsh and unnatural- perfectly fitting for  a concrete memorial to a young life full of regret and pain. But I didn't want my words to be fitting. I wanted my words to left you up to everything that I knew you could be. As if words in death could re-write life. 

Let's re-write life with drawn out adjectives and over emphatic verbs. Let's infuse the drab misgivings of yesterday with a colorful fire that strangers would be envious of. Let's deceive ourselves with the beauty of language...