And Let It Be Joy That Remembers Me

Let not the weight of my days be the tale,
nor the echoes of sorrow that time lets grow pale.
Not the moments I stumbled, nor those I stood tall,
but the laughter that lingers, the light through it all.

Let it be joy that remembers me,
like dawn spilling gold on an old, weary tree.
Like wind through the grass where the wild rivers run,
or the hush of the earth when it greets the sun.

Not carved into stone, nor whispered in woe,
but caught in the way that the fireflies glow.
A kindness retold in a story once shared,
a spark in the dark to remind you I cared.

So when all else fades as the years pass you through,
let it be joy that still sings in the blue.