My name
falls from mouths
like coins rolling into a gutter,
never picked up again.

My name
never reaches ears,
or perhaps they wish to not hear it.

Memories of me,
I wish others would cherish,
but like dew on morning leaves,
they always disappear with the day,
forgotten.

I wear a coat,
sit in a seat,
and say a name
no one remembers.

My name is as worthless
as I am.
And so I say it again,
and again, and again,
hoping God will define it.

But I fear even He would not,
because my dew in His garden,
too has disappeared for years,
forgotten.