The day will come when I'll be gone
No more this earth to walk -
They'll put me in the cold, dark ground
And give their little talk;
Remember what a friend she was?
An angel from above,
She used to write such pretty poems
Of gratitude and love;
She had a sparkle in her eye
That none could overlook -
Could make you wish that someday
She would write you in her book;
She had a way of loving
That was tender, warm and free -
She made you feel so many things
Such beauty she could see;
To every person that she met
She always gave her best,
And even if you disagreed
She overlooked the rest
To come to some conclusion
That would benefit you both,
For neither one was right or wrong -
Her truth was not an oath;
Some day they'll write my epitaph
I hope they make it fitting --

'She left her mark at midnight -
At her keyboard she's still sitting'.

Linda Ori

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/epitaph-25/