The future
There are moments when I wake up at night
and think of my death.
I know I will be instantly forgotten like
the great journalist Christopher Dickens
who died suddenly in Paris.
His friends will miss him but they
too will talk less about him as time goes by
I think it must be like this to be forgotten
as new people inherit the world
often for the wrong reason.
This new time frightens me although I shall
not be there and see it.
My hope had been for a friendly world, but
it looks like worse is to come and I see before
a spent globe hurtling through space.