A footprint left
then lost to sand,
Drained through the glass by time’s own hand.
Prolific words in stone remain,
Etched for all through joy and pain.

Like scars that groove the path you tread,
Your mark remains when you have fled.
A tree you planted, tall and wide,
Where weary ones may rest and hide.

A monument in a field, where we lie,
A headstone where our relatives come to cry.
A plaque on the wall for all to see,
A ribbon tied around a tree.

Shades of blue on those you knew,
A helm that time still sings anew.
A fable passed from tongue to ear,
A whisper that the young still hear.

Though you move on, your mark stays strong
The echo of a life lived long.