as this life winces
in a flash. What did you do
as you passed through? Did you
leave something behind? Something

fruitful and kind? Did you float
as a paper boat till the bath water
ran out? Did you dance with

the stars or not leave the
ground? Did you flutter over
every flower ******* up the
nectar? Or did you sprint like a gazelle

no man can tell. Did you turn
as the autumn leaves? Or rise as the Redwood
trees? Will you fly back to us as
a butterfly? Or are you spent as dust
leaving us?