I often wonder, when Death seals my eyes,
Who will read my poems, who will analyze
Every word and thought that dripped from my pen
As angels wept and softly sighed Amen

Many eyes will see just meaningless words
That flounder in their minds like wounded birds;
But dare I hope for but one astute heart
Able to translate my crude form of art!

While reading my words, he'll breathe a deep sigh,
Sensing each torment as it marches by:
Loneliness, with many a sleepless night,
Tears that clouded the moon's radiant light,
Prayers intended to shake Heaven's rafters
But never yielding "happy ever afters,"
Carefully planned dreams, all destined to fail
Like ill-fated plots in a fairy tale

Will these rhyming words so carefully wrought
Clearly illustrate the love that I  sought?
Then down his sorrowful face tears will flow,
Having realized the depths of my woe

And if his tears were to dampen the soil
Where I lie in rest, set free from life's toil,
Will I know he took pity on my plight,
Thus granting peace in my eternal night?