When I am no more

These words I weave,
These dreams I believe,
The light with which you say I shine,
The stories I narrate,
Of hope and faith,
They are all yours, were never mine.

This warmth, this glow,
The incandescent flow
Of my words are all owed only to you,
My dear sister little,
In a world so brittle,
You gave love with which blessed are few.

Just before you sleep,
These words pray keep,
In your treasure chest of memories,
Just once in a while,
With a fond smile,
Dust them off as fugitive time flees.

Yes, worthless they are,
For you-a morning star,
Yet on a rainy day as you seek release,
From joints that creak,
A sky that feels bleak,
They may gift you some drops of peace.

These words transient,
I do know, are meant,
Like those writ on the sands of a shore,
To be washed away,
And hence I pray,
Keep them buried for when I am no more.