If you come by
And I'm not here
Do not worry with a tear,
Just give a smile
If just for a while
And remember, that I once was here.
If you look
And if you find my book,
To remember the things I have said,
Just give a thought
For you have caught,
Feelings, that I once had read.
For I was here
Not long ago
Along with the freezing snow,
Writing dreams, and remembering things
So man wouldn't let them go.
But, the dreams had died
One gloomy night,
When wishes were no longer made
So, they didn't need me to write them down
So my book, they threw away.
If you come by
And I'm not here,
And you have a dream in your mind.
Just open a book
And then you look,
A dream, you might have found.
So, write it down
Without a frown,
Or a lonesome tear.
But, remember that thought
That you had sought,
For now, you are here.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem