What is the world we leave behind us?
I have been thinking lately
—in a rather morose way—
of what I leave behind
when inevitable death claims me.
Mostly paper, I think—
in all its maniifestations:
poems and books and pictures,
a scattering of things:
wood bowls, a giant bear,
a few dear monsters..
clothes and furniture,
dishes (and dishes) (and dishes).
There are things that made me laugh,
things that caught my eye
with their color, or their style,
their clever words or concepts...
(I do admire clever, above all.)
But none of these will stay, but
will find their way to shops and sales
and maybe, just maybe,
to hearts that will treasure them as I do:
pieces of my soul
that will endure.
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