Empty Shell

And when I die,
I do not care
whether you bury me in oak coffins,
or scatter my ashes in Venice,
but remember me from time to time,
hopefully fondly,
ignoring my propensity to wander,
to never find the straight path,
ignoring my slowness,
but remembering that despite every meandering detour
and wrong turn,
I walked always
towards love.

About this poem

No, I am not planning to leave anytime soon. I’m actually pretty fond of this life. But I do know how I want to be remembered.

Tom