Dear You,

I ask wholeheartedly,

If I were to die today,

Who might miss me?

No, not those in my immediate heart,

But what of those who knew my soul?

At a set time they might see me,

Would they notice I stopped showing?

What of those,

Who cared not for my name,

Nor for my voice,

But my very presence was a familiarity?

What of those who once spoke,

A question, a comment?

Would they never think again of who I am?

I’d be less remembered than the one,

Who bumped into your arm,

Or almost hit your car,

You always remember those faces,

Part of you never forgets.

What of those who saw me once,

Perhaps simply overheard,

Saw me do something reckless,

They know me not,

But if they saw me,

Might they remember?

Oh, pity me,

Think me a vain old fool,

To think someone might think of me,

Long after I’m gone.