At times I muse on, the gospel of,
When I am gone.
When I am gone,
Would you still care?
Would you love me the same?
Would you want to find out why?
Or, will I be another forgotten name?
Often I muse upon,
When I am gone.
Would I have my footprints made by then?
Would I really be ready to go?
I earnestly would not know.
Sometimes I ponder,
What if you had my back,
And may be then,I would not want to go.
They say,There are miles to go
Before you sleep,
Can these be measured in a heap?
What if the miles have been traversed,
And we do not see it yet?
May be there is a different end to get to.
But I still muse on,
Would you heed to foil?
Before I am gone,
Or
Would you not care, to create a row?
When I am gone.
When I am gone.
When I am gone,
Would you still care?
Would you love me the same?
Would you want to find out why?
Or, will I be another forgotten name?
Often I muse upon,
When I am gone.
Would I have my footprints made by then?
Would I really be ready to go?
I earnestly would not know.
Sometimes I ponder,
What if you had my back,
And may be then,I would not want to go.
They say,There are miles to go
Before you sleep,
Can these be measured in a heap?
What if the miles have been traversed,
And we do not see it yet?
May be there is a different end to get to.
But I still muse on,
Would you heed to foil?
Before I am gone,
Or
Would you not care, to create a row?
When I am gone.
💔
ReplyDelete❤❤❤
ReplyDeleteJust Brilliant
ReplyDelete