someday, after I am gone

my grandson will remember me 

not because he missed me, but for the 

little gossip we exchanged about his mother. 

someday, when I am gone 

the mango tree in my garden 

may remember me

where the old man has gone 

who spent hours in his shadow

and I will not be there to answer.

even the leaves of the plants inside my home, 

which frequently seem to whisper to me 

when I’m gone for a few days, 

“where was I yesterday?”

will be flabbergasted in my absence.

And my books in my study 

and the computer on my table

will surely miss my touch, my caress

and my fingers

I’m not sure about others.

the world is too busy 

to notice my absence 

however, to make myself happy 

I always convince myself to stay cheerful

because no matter what

some people will definitely celebrate my presence 

in my absence.