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by Fyn Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2270909
What I was left...
Legacy


Scramble
over the Wills:
the wills and won'ts of who gets what--
didn't apply.
Either there wasn't one
or I wasn't in it.
Officially.

Unofficially?
I was bequeathed
a legacy.
I inherited their friends
when they were planted.
We had them in common, you see
and that unintentional garden
has bloomed.

Karen left me
Cynthia, Gloria and Ann-Marie.
Grand ladies all
with all the eccentricities
of women of a certain age.
Quirky, full of life, vinegar,
and a wealth of joy.
She also left me Carol
along with
four generations
of her ancestors
and a plethora of stories.
She is a treasure.
Karen left me Carl and Bill--
who couldn't be less alike:
one a bit of a nuisance,
but means well. (in his way).
the other pure, untarnished gold.

My brother left me
all his final details to untangle,
an apartment to clear out
and rumors to dispel.
He left me secrets to honor
and answers.

Dave also left me Norman and Cort.
Long, long-time friends
and sound or lighting buddies
that stretch back a lifetime.
He left me others from those carefree
'on the road' days who shared
tales and stories with
a recurring them:
he was pure gold.
Pure Gold--
the man who died with
fifteen dollars in his wallet
and a miserable apartment mate.

He also left me Carol.
Another from even before
the band days - back to college
times of misadventures
and an enduring friendship.
Fifty-plus years of laughter,
tears, love, and wishes.
She is another
splash of pure gold
shining
in a darkened world.

Nothing ever
left behind
could ever
be worth more
than their
legacies.








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