Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 19
What will my name be,
to people,
as days go on?

Will the mention of it,
spark memories,
made of fire?
Create blazing flames,
tall and hot,
at the length of my life?

Will the slightest whisper of it,
create oceans,
of tears,
sliding down people's faces,
as emotions take over, once again,
for the fact of I am gone?

Will the reason that it is spoken,
cause the wind to blow
carrying ashes,
and wonder,
of what is left of me,
and what will become of me?

Will simple word of it,
when it is named,
cause the first flower of spring to grow,
poking under the fence,
a small bud,
delicate petals,
I'm still here,
rooting hope?

Or will it be nothing to people,
as I am now?

I guess I'll never live long enough to know

But until then,
when death takes over,
the only last thing I can do for my name,
to be heard,
is hope
Written by
Vivian  F/Behind the screen
(F/Behind the screen)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems