Footnote

I ask not to be part
of the glories that you write,
the fantasies that you weave.

The warp of imagination,
the weft of words
The tapestry you compose
of heroic scenes and gallant times.

The throbbing of love
Consummated with pain.
The coffin of grief
layered with the dust of smiles.

I ask not to be part
of the dreams you conceive.

I am content
to be a footnote
to explain your lives.