Would You

Would you miss me if I were to become

 the fading breath upon the passing wind?

Would you even once but to think,

That you may not know of me ever again.

For if, it was unto this night….

That I in the soft and stealthy quiet

Were to pass ever so silently away…

Would you… miss me this day?

If I were to take wings upon this vermilion breeze so fair.

Would you feign sympathy…would you even care?

Is this in vain and shallow remorse that I say…

Would you

Oh, would you miss me this day?

For that I, this He, this mortal of me,

 Hath at last been suckled dry of the spirit

Through full and gapping wound

Only to find that he be bound by the chains

 of the simpleton and the marquees fool.

So would you miss me…

 if it be as written, beneath these pages obligatory and smitten?

Would it be so soon?

 Or does fate betray the spirit

 which cries in bewilderment from the dark side

 of the remorseful would be moon.

J. Allen Wilson © 2005

www.Jallenwilson.com