What will you do
when you discover that I have gone?
Will you
go through all of my old letters
that I asked you not to
go through
Will you
give away all of my things
that I asked you not to
give away?
Will you miss me
like I miss you just thinking about it?
Someday I will be gone,
I know it; it is true.
Someday you will be gone too,
and all who knew you,
and all who knew them.
What will we do then?
Where will we be? And when?