I want to be remembered.

Like the light scent of lilacs carried in the breeze

Like the fold marking a page in a favorite book

In the way the wind moves the treetops

In the way rouge stains fingertips

In that fleeting sort of way, I want to be remembered.

 

To have them chase after those memories

Late at night when they see an old receipt

They need not remember all of me, it’s just pieces

Like walking along the sea watching the water’s edge

No one can trace it twice.