Without Me

The sun still shines down from on high
Casting shadows on the summer ground
Geese still fly low, close down to the sand
Gathering steam for winter’s journey
Even though I am not here.

The dreams of children still get dreamt
And some of them often come true
Fire still consumes more than it fuels
Creating smoke that is seen for miles
Even though I am not here.

The paper still comes every Sunday
But it’s addressed to someone else
Christmas is still more about presents
Than the Christ child for which it is named
Even though I am not here.

The fads still go in and out of style
More quickly than the eye can blink
Geniuses still develop grand ideas
That change the fabric of our universe
Even though I am not here.

Even though I am not here
The world still turns
Even though I am not here
The heart still yearns
Even though I am not here
The fire still burns

Without me.

Sam