purple poppy
admired as we walk past
destroyed an hour later
© Rachel Green July 2025
Mourn not for me when I have left this life
for I have lived a goodly length of time
and though I think I have endured strife
in truth, my very being was sublime.
For by my hand this painting doth exist;
these books, this poetry of meagre skill
ripples in the lake of memory persist
and in the minds of men, for good or ill.
And mayhap, in the future, someone reads
a novel of a life lived mostly free
and is inspired to make the change they need
become the soul they thought themself to be.
Though cans't forget me not, while in these strokes
another life is bettered 'midst these poorer folks.
© Rachel Green July 2025
No comments:
Post a Comment