Epitaph

I would have been known like J.R.R.

But lost my path in the burroughs of a forgotten shire.

The words came, except that they flowed only reluctantly

An inconsistent stream of ideas and dialogues

Of unfinished characters and meandering plots.

I died without knowing love save for those quick passions

That fill youth like bottle rockets shooting into the night sky.

I did not find out what the lasting embrace

Nor the familiar touch.

The meaning now gone as lost relationships that end

In messy fights and tearful disagreements.

I die with no resentments for is loss or the apparent

Lack of it’s mystery.

I still wish I had but a drop of bittersweet drought of the

Unripened nectar all the same.

I taught in vain.

Who will remember me?

Save for the fact that I once drove a vehicle the same as my name?

And was obnoxious enough to deserve the grudging respect

Of the younger generations I had wished to help mold.

Now the grayness of the encertain voyage draws nigh

And the fear of parting this life beats my heart to a stop and I look

To the only familiar friend I have known to visit me soon.