Write no epitaph for me
Warm words carved on cold stone
In a local cemetery
Slowly getting overgrown

If in, say, one hundred years
People read the lines you'd leave
The words would fall upon deaf ears
For no-one would be left to grieve

If things I've done improve the lot
Of people I will never see
Then it matters not a jot
That they are unaware of me

My legacy is in my deeds,
The ones that help the world along,
The only epitaph I need
Is that other sing my songs


© Doug Chadwick, April 2012