When I'm Gone

The people stand gathered
Here because they feel they must be,
Ready long before the fire lights
To be done,
To get on with their lives.
But they linger
To touch the pyre with prying fingers,
To breathe the smoke-scented air with relish,
To feel they’ve paid
‘Respects'.
But as far as I can tell,
None of them care,
Not really,
Not truly.
Will anyone mourn me
When I’m gone?

A circle of those called my family
Watches with tear-filled eyes as the rising flames
Envelop the young, dark-haired body,
My shell for long years past.
And when the crowd is gone,
They watch the embers still,
Tears still falling,
Hearts still broken.
Perhaps they mourn,
But when day turns to night,
Night to day,
And day to night again,
The weight lifts.
They slowly forget.
I can only hope
Something of me
Remains in them.
But still I ask:
Will anyone remember me
When I’m gone?

Fortunatelly he didn't die.:P