Someday someone I love
will find everything I have left
hidden in boxes
filed in cabinets
hung on walls
or even buried in rubble.

It may simply be thrown away
and forgotten
as the living must do
with the clutter of death.

Unless I leave
a bad memory,
harsh words,
the smile that was not given,
a missed chance to lift someone up,
failure to understand,
criticism of passion.

Those memories could never be discarded
by those who received them
and would be my legacy.

There are always two ways:
one leads to dark days;
the other speaks of the lark.

Selected byNolcha Fox
Image credit:Melody Ayres-Griffiths

I am a retired entomologist/educator and have been writing poetry for a long time. It's only been in the last few years that I have taken it a little more seriously. I have written hundreds of poems, but still don't consider myself to be an accomplished poet. I keep trying through writing to find new perspectives that reveal the layers of meaning that are always there, just below the surface of the obvious. Some of the poets who have influenced me are W.S. Merwin, Ted Hughes, Dylan Thomas, and Galway Kinnell. However, lately, I agree with what the Poet Laureate Kay Ryan said: "I have tried to live very quietly, so I could be happy...It seems like many people think that if you drive yourself crazy, then you can write. I wanted to see what a fortunate life would produce. What writing would come out of this mind that didn't try to torment itself."