Paper and Ink

(I often wonder what my obituary will say. Do you?)
Will they say he was a poet
Of happiness and of sorrow
Will they say he was a poet
Of yesterday, today and tomorrow

Will they say he was a poet
With shallowness and vanity
Will they say his fantasies
Reflected only his insanity

Will they say he was a poet
Who dreamed of mountains and streams
Will they say his work laid bare
The anguish of unfulfilled dreams

Will they say he turned a phrase
With uncommon panache and verve
Will they say his honesty
Somewhere touched a nerve

Will they say that as he aged
His work betrayed his senescence
Will they say he was a poet
Whose words were of some consequence

Will they say his poetry
Sometimes made them stop and think
Will they say he needn’t have bothered
He wasted so much paper and ink

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