When I die, do I go back in time?
Am I a space traveler, soaring through an inverted life?
Will there be bedtime stories and homemade halloween costumes?
Kisses from my Grammy and walks with our black lab Libby?
Or will I fly forward, into space, to watch the years and stars go by?
Will I sit and watch from above?
Lovingly laugh as my grandkids grow old?
Will I know all the secrets of the universe?
Or will I walk among the people, as a sorry shadow?
Perhaps looking for something I can’t find?
Will I infinitely search for a lost trinket or a lonely bus stop?
Or will there be black?
Simple Shorts 