When I die, will I fly?
Like a bluebird would fly?
Way up high
Up above in the sky?
Will my view be beneath?
From the ground will I see?
Any bluebirds?
Up high, when I die?
Or, will I be a leaf?
On a big Maple tree..
Swaying to and fro in darkened skies?
Well, I wonder what will?
What will be? What I'll do..
Will I fly? Or just crawl when I die?
Well, it matters the least
Of the two, I may be;
But, what matters the most;
Most to me.
Should I be in the sky with the greatest of birds;
Matters not, just so your there to see
I may act like its so;
Like I know you'll be there;
I think, I might think, your superman...
But, if I haven't shown;
What you needed to see;
I will pen it in words, so you can.
When this life comes to close
When the curtain is drawn;
When I look to my left, then my right.
Just as always, you're there;
Never swaying an inch.
I'm that leaf, hanging on to you tight!
Cuz, I know when this ends
Where're it be, just a storm;
Or, if we live out, our golden years..
Wouldn't it be grand thoughts?
If we both came to be;
In our yard, the same two gorgeous deer?
If we do. If we don't.
Should I come back next time;
As a slug, or a slimey old snake
When I look to my left
Then again to my right
By my side; it's the place you will take.
Though I've often asked 'why? '
When you're something so good
Why choose me and this life, here with me?
Maybe when lights go out;
And the canvas is blank..
As two bluebirds with birds eye view...We'll see.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderful poem, Bobbi