Writing My Will

Crocus 3-4-21

We sat in the long, rectangular room
with the long, rectangular table topped

with faux marble. Outside the eighth-floor window,
we could see the frozen, snow-covered lake.

The serious young lawyer wrote my responses
in little scribbles to inscribe my will.

I watched words and numbers gather in display
on his snowy-white pages, my life seemingly

reduced to something small and slight.
I went home feeling diminished, home to a night’s

restless sleep. Of course, March will return
to raise the golden crocuses with their rich

inner lives. And if indeed I have few assets
in the companies of commerce

and the company of others,
why should I let that freeze my will?

Copyright 2020 by Brian Dean Powers
Published in the Winter/Spring 2021 issue of Bramble
Photo by the author

8 thoughts on “Writing My Will

  1. Congratulations on having this piece published in Bramble. 🤗 🥳

    This poem, these words, take me back…clearing out my mother’s room after she passed. Her whole life in one box.
    We are more than what’s in a box, or on paper.

    I like the way you played with the meaning of “will.” 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I too liked it.
    Spring time is when I most think of death given its time of life and resurrection.
    I hope someday my own ashes will bring forth redder tulips and brighter croci.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Hope springs eternal as does the crocus every year again and again. A will, thankfully, is only an annual flower.
    JP x


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