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Bequeath

If I die—now
I'll die alone

I no-longer need those loving hands
I've had more than my share—

Though regrets I still have many—the spoken words
"I Love You"

I wish I'd said them more—
even to strangers, that past my way—
who might not even care…

But mostly to the ones that had loved me back
and asked for nothing in return.

I owe a touch…
A smile…
A warm embrace…

best wished for a happy-healthy life
and an eternity of blissful.
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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