For whatever reason, I felt very mortal this morning
I realized that I have outlived my mother
And perhaps that was it.
Then again, more of my friends are leaving every day
And I am still here.
But it made me think about what I left behind.
While I may hope for my soul to live on,
What am I leaving here?
I have written things that will yellow and crack
And be forgotten or maybe prop a window open.
I have said things that may be remembered for a generation or two
Or maybe just for ten minutes
And there is nothing I can do about it.
But I have a son to whom
I have imparted what I can
Knowing full well that he will be a better man than I
That and any kindnesses
Are what is left behind.