i'm dead
my poetry lives
you may do as you please
with my poems
be kind to them
don't trample on them
don't throw them away
as obsolete
let not the papers fly in the wind
and find home
in a faraway pond
to sink ink
to the bottom
don't take me for granted
think back to what i would have wanted
done with my poems
share them with others
pass them from hand to hand
so they can read too
and wonder at my thoughts
my profile pic is not my choice any more
nor is my resume
i remain the same year after year
but let my poems
bring forth a New Spring
again and again.
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