What If I Died Poem by Kevin Maroney

What if I died,
would anyone care,
would anyone give a fig or a hair?
Would their locks roam on a shake of sight,
back and forth from left to right?
Would they miss my jokes, or really, truth,
would they miss my gentle charming sooth,
or would they really, truly miss,
my daily struggle, daily risk?

Would they write a poem about my passing,
would they even bother the time for asking,
how or why I died, forgive?
Nor would they bother to take my boots,
and my socks and daily food,
try it in their minds to see,
just why my present state be.

A question asked daily, from end to start,
a daily self-conference, a heart to heart.
For who in good conscience and reason when I die,
would ever take the time to wonder why?