don't worry about it
the days will go on
without you;

you'll leave this planet,
pretty much like
you left the other
ones before it

your obituary has been
written with writ, your eulogy
eloquently spoken

family and friends
finding and sharing
their favorite moments

your outline in chalk,
your shape in sand,
your legend in stone

all of you, in
all of us, part of
nothing,

and spread out
like birdseeds,--

and once you're
gone for good,

your favorite barista you used
to talk to on every Sunday morning
will wonder where you went;

because it's been 2 months
since you've come by
for a grande iced ***** chai.