I’m calling this one Epitaph–and yes, it’s morbid. I’m not sure if it’s considered a prose poem or free verse, though. 😊
I hope you enjoy!
Epitaph
Cry not for me,
when I’m old and senile
with graying hair and wrinkles
and gapped memories
and painfully failing knees.
Cry not for me,
When I have more medicines
Than I can remember taking
For all chronic illnesses
In all letters of the alphabet
That are Hardly worthy mentioning.
Cry not for me,
When I drift away
On silent wings
Of downy dove gray
Colored for my wonders and sins
Filled with joys and tears
Of a life well lived.
Cry not for me,
For I’ve had a great life
Maybe long, maybe short
My regrets remain mine
My annecdotes, around I assigned
In morning recaps, drinking coffee and tea with ice
And chocolate cookies and triangular pies.
Cry not for me,
When I’m gray and weathered
For I leave behind
A clutch of children
Hatched with every emotion
Ever born across the ocean
To carry my memories.
Cry not for me,
For I’ll always be present
Perpetuated in the actopms
I leave behind
As The legacy of my life.
Copyright © 2022 Jina S. Bazzar