What is left
After everything has been uplifted,
Dusted, tidied, put away,
Cleared off and cupboarded?
What is here
when I am not?
One day,
nothing of me will exist.
Things that there are
that were mine
Will not be mine;
They will be there,
but someone else's.
So what?
Who will care
about what is not there
when I am not here?
