Poem (Will?)

If tomorrow starts without me

Will the world somehow slow down?

Will this house preserve my memory

like a worn, angel clown?

Will the children hold my picture

like a rare and precious gem

or keep it in a drawer to be

acknowledged now and then?

Will my lover become faithful

in a way he never was

with a guilted heavy conscience

or a fear of God above?

Will I haunt them in the evenings

when my memory is stale

and I'm stuck between two places

with my fumble and my fail?

When my body turns to ashes

and my thoughts are washed away

will the love still carry over

in some transcendental way?

I suppose these thoughts are fruitless

And my fantasy morose

When tomorrow will not hesitate

for anybody's ghost