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?
Copyright © David Ellsworth | Year Posted 2012
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