The Warm Glow of Late Afternoon
After I'm gone,
when I look back at myself,
I want to see what you see.
Maybe there was a friend,
with laughter in the air,
the warmth of a shared moment,
a bridge built on trust.
Or perhaps an enemy,
a shadow in the distance,
clashing of wills,
the fire of disagreements,
and the lessons buried
beneath the scars.
Maybe a stranger,
just a passerby,
leaving footprints in time,
fading like whispers
in a crowded room.
The most caring person you knew,
a gentle touch,
the quiet strength in a smile,
unfolding like a flower
in the glow of
late afternoon.
Or maybe the one who never cared,
lost in the noise,
the silence of indifference,
a ghost that barely brushed past
your heart.
Perhaps the one you always wished to call,
a dream of closeness,
the endless possibilities
wrapped up in distant hopes.
Or the last soul you wanted near,
the weight of their presence,
the heaviness of longing
that made the air thick and still.
But one thing is certain,
no matter how you see me,
you were there,
woven into my fabric,
a thread in the tapestry of my days,
even if you never really knew me.
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