What will they say?

What will they say of me when I am gone?

An eccentric fool lost in his yesterdays?

A lonely soul locked away in the ancient house

He saved from destruction?

Will someone scavenger through the wastes of my life

The photographs, notes, writings, drawings . . . .

And find some shred of humanity there?

What will they say of me when I am gone?

 

Will our letters be found and read again?

Perhaps some young girl, wide-eyed in awe

Discovering that people really can love

Past the limits of their endurance

Will someone finger your locket

And wind up your music box

To watch the ballerinas turn and sway

To a melody that once had meaning?

 

Will they wonder about the little things?

Two train tickets from Munich to Milan

Blossoms pressed between pages of a Gibran book

A napkin where you blotted your lipstick

And I saved it because it imprinted you indelibly

Will they assign it all to the trash or fire?

And if the smoke of us rises past the stars

Will you gather it up and hold it dear and remember?

Reviews

[Salar Majak]

This is breath taking, every line holds this amazing feeling, it kept me wanting for more, thank you, it was simply marvolous

[Michael G.]

Masterfully stroked and written.
I love the softness and the texture you've given to this. It flows like a soft brook over well rounded stones. These are the reasons we live and we love.
Thank you for the reminder and the privilege of reading this wonderful poem.

[DrD]

And thank you very much Michael, for your visit and kind words.

[Cryingkate]

Doc.
Would I be clogging your arteries if I attempted to reply with a poem come back?
I could never be good enough to match your poems quality but I think I can match the heart. I hear her voice answer you and I would be honored if you let me take my time and relay.
Tis' Beautiful and I go thru these thoughts all the time.And for some I have answers.

[DrD]

Thank you very much, Kate.