Keep Them Well (Edited)

I truly can’t presume to know

What most will say after I go,

Nor can I boast, or pray that they,

In grief or joy, might think of me,

Then toast to my finality.

How can I predict these future terms?

These unspoken hurts, these empty words.

Instead I hold, my only hope

A solemn belief, memories told to cope

Of me with them, and them with me

Will keep them well, let them be well

And remain fond, distant reveries.