You were my final draft.
The one I wanted to keep
and show people that I could do something
with this life of mine.
So I gave my life to you,
handed in my final to be marked
and to be told whether I passed or failed,
got you or lost you.
You were all I had to show my life's meaning.
You were my final draft.
But I was only a rough copy to you.
To he thrown in the trash when you were done,
and you could find your final.
To me you were as beautiful as the falling snow
But one day you said "Okay I'm done now,
you may go."
© Uwais Coetzee
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Grade 10
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