I BID THEE FAREWELL

What will the tales be, when I last exhale,
On my deathbed, as I bid the world farewell,
On an unknown journey, a trip to heaven...or hell,
A wraith of flowers on my resting place, a 6 foot well,
What'll be on their tongues when they bury me, their last farewell?

Will they hail me a saint or sinner?
Or perhaps paint me a winner?
Feigning everlasting fealty but in closed quarters call me a loser?
Laugh at my demise, say I was a quitter?
Without regard squander my life's work, their last farewell?

On my first step of heavens stairwell,
What'll they tell when they recount my tale?
Will they remember me selfish or a giver?
Shall my name be trashed for decades, or perhaps immortalized in history?
Will they tarnish and taint my image, their last farewell?

When I'm gone,
Even with perfect brush strokes, does it matter what picture they will paint?
Because whatever they say, I am all these things,
I was hated and loved,
Despised and cherished,
Labelled an angel, the vilest of demons,
So as you revel in your gossip,
Know like you I was just a man, when you bid me your last farewell.