A Poetic Send-Off

I take my poems, in three month spurts, And bind them in a book. There’s just one copy, meant for me; They rarely get a look. A new one came today and it Is number twenty-six, A fine collection of my rhymes If someone needs a fix. Though all my writing’s on the web, I like the solid heft Of what will be my legacy When nothing else is left. And at my funeral, I’d like No eulogies – instead, Assorted poems from in these books To be succinctly read. They capture all within my life That makes the world make sense And really, every writer loves A captive audience!