If I die, will you mourn;
When I finally fall, will you scorn?
Will this world be a lonely space;
When I am in my final resting place?
Will my glorious words remain;
A forgotten song’s sweet refrain?
Or, will they be callously consigned;
To the earthen mound heaped?
I have written what I have written;
Thinking my words not misshapen;
But if this world doesn’t accept;
It’s their loss, promise un-kept.
Fame and glory weren’t mine;
Too long have I lived in others’ shine
Extremely humble to strike out,
Badger, cajole, grovel, or shout.
When the scent of lilies fade;
Will a tear down your cheek slide?
In the sunset of my life;
Will my goodness be remembered, my wife?
