What a life
with ups and downs
and endless strife
With twists and turns and
complex rites of passage
we can't even see we're engaged in
With days flashing by like cars in the night
What a life
With joys and sadness of equal measure
if we're lucky
With pure love seen in a child's glance
and a mother's heart open to the stars
And what of me?
Will I be remembered?
With love?
Or even fondly?
Will I be the father of the girl whose eyes roll
with the vaguest memory?
Or will my obituary be filled with tales of dreamy days and loving times and words
to guide a heart better than my own?
For her heart is already better than my own
and I love her
Photo courtesy of pixabay.com
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