I read an obituary
In the newspaper today.

It was a small, two liner,
Completely separate from the thousands
of eulogies that flow
across the sheet of paper each day.

“Grandma,
You look beautiful.”

And I smiled.

I wonder
What my last words will be,
when I say adieu to this world.

Maybe they will be a goodbye
To my heart,
Which beat through the toughest of times .

Maybe they will be
A shooting star wish,
A soprano-scream
Of childhood delights.

Maybe they will be
A scrapbook of old photos,
And a yellowed journal.

Maybe they will be an apology
To the person I could not be,
To the dreams I left unfulfilled.

I wonder,
If my memories will live on,
Survive despite their source being dead.

I wonder,
If someday,
When I’m old,
With crooked teeth,
Golden hoops around my neck,
Terracotta hearts and wooden eyes,
An empty frame of peace,
Someone will paint love
On my tombstone.