20, 30 years from now,
who's gonna give a shit
whether you have a nice yard,
with plants there or not?
or green grass?
or even if you were ever here?
Oh, some will -
family and such,
maybe a friend or two or three,
but for the most part,
you're down to that, if you're lucky.
You see, that's why we have tombstones -
our last reaching out to others
to please notice me, please wonder about me,
please see that I was here... it says so,
right there on that piece of stone.
Doesn't really say a lot,
but it does, sorta, say a lot. And that's about it, ain't it?
Yeah, that's about it.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|shiloh (188.8.131.52) -- Saturday, March 31 2018, 07:45 am|
thank you, Becky, for your help.
you ARE a saint.
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