Life's fleeting, we're often told
One day the youth struts, the next day you're old.
If everyday was a page of my life's story
What would I mean to the people who know me.
My mother would retell
How I was a good child!
Ofcourse, I made her crazy
But I could make it right with a smile.
My father would tell you
About his number one fan
That man could do no wrong
I was really a stan.
My sister with some regret
Characteristic of younger ones
Will tell you how I was the favorite
That apish charming old dunce.
My girl would reminisce
How I loved her dearly
But the red in my veins
Chose heart over brains quite clearly.
My friends who would have
Nothing nice to say to my face.
Will tell you how I was brilliant
In 50000 different ways.
And I shall remember
Myself through their eyes.
Afterall once you are gone
Its through them that you survive.
Amidst all the uncertainty
Of what happens once you are dead
I think I shall go on
Through my loved ones instead.