There is this thing about being,
a fragile song that we all sing.
And then darkness comes beckoning,
for death is certain for all those living.
Here I have a request sincere,
when you are alone you must not fear.
So even when I am gone, my dear,
just look around and you will find me near.
You’ll find me in the pages that I write,
and in the poems that I recite.
In the sunshine bright,
and in the moonbeam at night.
It is possible that once in a while,
you will miss me halfway through a mile.
But you must then think of me with a smile
and my life would be worthwhile.
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash
