If I withered like a flower, would you miss me when I’m gone,
If you woke to find me missing, how would that impact your dawn?
If I dried up like a stream bed, would I ever leave a mark,
If I melted like a snow drop, if my candle lost its spark?
As a shooting star will disappear, I’ve often wondered how,
The way they would have treated me, if they knew then, what’s now
The moment that I fly away, I wonder if they’d care.
Or when they lower me below, would one memory linger there?
© 2007 Jediah Logiodice