The Flesh Poem by Randy McClave

Deeds are eternal, but not the flesh;
Together as one they will never mesh,
The flesh will rot, and buried underground,
But, words and achievements will always be found.
We will be remembered by our feats
Not by how we look, or by our heartbeats,
But, by our exploits and also our acts,
Some though will be remembered only by lilacs.
Pictures are kept to remember our looks
But, I would rather have my name in books,
The body is fleeting, deeds are enduring,
Death is imminent and remembrance is alluring.

Randy L. McClave