LETTERS, I WILL LEAVE

A new year. A year older.
When you're young
the days are more local,
days now, are days to express.

Letters, are my
personal accomplishments,
though numbers I can not grasp,
And I thrown upon the daily
walls of reality.

Still, we are among the privileged,
to be given the gift of day, a
breath of air. Soon to be just a
name spoken into the wind of
remembrance.

Letters, I will leave, praying
there are enough, that some
may grasp.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I liked the questions asked in the poetry.
"Still, we are among the privileged,
to be given the gift of day, a
breath of air. Soon to be just a
name spoken into the wind of
remembrance."
The above lines. I ask often. What will leave behind? I hope I leave the words and knowledge of great elders. Thank you Rene for sharing the outstanding poetry.
Coyote