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!
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