I don’t know if I’ll ever do anything
that is remembered. Maybe I already have.
Most likely, I’ll linger for a little while
like sparkly dust after fireworks.
Then it will be dark.
–
Will any of my sentiments fall
on ears or eyes that will hold them
more than the time I took to write
this question?
The odds are against it.
–
Will my children carry anything of me
beyond my last tomorrow?
Will any of the seeds I dropped bloom
deep in the woods or along the road?
Maybe for a little while.
–
I wonder if I’ll ever be allowed
to pour out all my thoughts anywhere
before the end. Or is that the end,
when the essence of a heart meets
the last drops of time.
The Word Rummager 
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