I read a poem by Walt Whitman this morning. When I go, I hope it's read at my funeral...
If you want me again look for me
under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am or
what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you
nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep
encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
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