Once I have teeter-tottered to my grave on the same wobbly feet
that have carried me through life, please don’t memorialize me with fluff, dull as a spoon, useless as a dream never recalled. For that matter don’t slather it upon the dried up life of anyone. Listen to me, I don’t know
what I want it to be, the last sound I make. I do know that I need
to make it now so there’s time for it to become one with the wind. I really need for it to become one with the wind.
© Tina Zabielski 2011-2019