You won’t remember me for the things I gave you
but for those I didn’t take away;
not because I gave you freedom
but because I didn’t clip your wings.
You won’t think of the laughs I caused,
but of the smiles I left intact.
You will notice the messy rooms I didn’t touch,
the gopher holes I didn’t fill,
the hot meals I didn’t cook,
the crumbled dishes I didn’t break.
You will wish it were me
throwing that spatula from across the room…
stirring the pot;
but instead there will be silence
and beauty in the way
I went by your life
leaving ripples but not marks,
but what I brought
and your memories
and your salt.
You could argue those are bruises.
I would venture you’ve been primed.
that’s the silence
of me gone from your life,
with nothing showing
but knowing smiles
and some tears
that taste of salt.
By tuttysan © 2011
Taste of Legacy – a poem.