When I am Gone
Someday if people find my words
what will they think of me?
Will they scratch their heads and wonder
how I came to be
obsessed with thoughts that came alive?
How sometimes in the morning at five
I could not sleep nor wanted to sleep
and had to write 'til my time would end.
For words to me became my friend
and walked with me with a gentle step
and brought me peace when I had wept.
Or will they cast away my words
and think upon their own?
It would not sadden me at all
for I had always known
that poetry is for the soul to feel
and became for me my way to deal
with life.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Added by Poetry Lover
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