How can life be measured
In greatness or in pleasure?
Or other things we treasure
The amount of lives you touched
Or lives you may have saved?
Or In memory how many times
You put your names on sidewalks getting paved?
Or how about the prank calls made
Can you count the memories you're in?
Every person that remembers you
It's not the print that matters but who's wearing the shoe
Is all of that added together before you die
Enough for the angels to accept you or wonder why
Somebody so young is gliding through the sky
Ready for St. Peter and just starting to fly?
In the end nothing can mend
Bad times and evil deeds
And there's no reason to worry
Everyone gets what they receive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem