Somewhere in the fading echoes
as the daylight slows
my eyes will close
upon this scene
as if I'd never been at all.

On tombstones where names flake away
In year books from a yesterday
perhaps an image will remain
to stain your memory.

What price is it that we must pay?
What fee is due?
When you or I take that last look at the Summer sky
and fly off to one more blind fate
the final unknown unkind blind date
Who will wait to etch our passing in the book of time?
Who will catch the echoes that we leave behind?

And should I care?
I was never born,never lived,didn't die
I was not there
it was not me you saw
soaring free.
It was not me
It couldn't be.
How would I give up that which is given freely?
that which I should love so dearly
and so very nearly,
I begin to see
how it could be me
I could be there
could live and die with no one to care and at the fade out
would I still shout
It was not me?

These questions sent to try me
tire me.
The fire that was me if it ever was me
is now the embers in the grate.
The cold hand of that unkind blind date
is reaching out to me.
It cannot see me shake
nor can it feel as my heart breaks and daylight flakes away
into the coldness of the final night.

It might have been me that you saw soaring free
or in the echoes of light smashing into the ground.
Stick around
I'll let you know
but then one day,like me you'll have to go.
Just so you know
if you're looking
I'll be in the garden smelling of roses.