Moments Along the Way

I often dream of blood, as old men do,
And fear my passing will go unremarked;
My inner fire gone unseen, never sparked
Or brought to flame, my words unheard though true.
I know in my head that we must all leave,
But my heart lives a secret fantasy:
That a tiny part, a flicker of me,
Will live on in passages I conceive.
I see in the faces of progeny,
Faintest shadows, tracing my countenance.
Their love of music, the way their words dance,
Grant me a measure of longevity.
I savor our meetings anew each day,
And treasure those moments along the way.

Mick McKellar
October 2019

We all seek our own forms of immortality, I guess.

Mick