When I’m Gone


As I die, I always wonder
If birds will pause their chatter
If singing will bow, in the shower
If spark is found somber.

Before my eyes close and I give in
To unknown and imagine,
I always wonder
If television will snail through dull scenes
If train will be. And its behavior not bothered.

As I lay in depth, I can’t help but ponder
If my bed will miss me when it’s time
If pillows will repeal masks, wear sackcloth’s in ash

Before I take my last breath, I question the ever
If eager, creative minds will hide and gnash
If fuss no longer must
If in memory, I will remain stronger
If factual stories will have me live forever.

IG: @Sircharlesthepoet

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