Submitted by Gary Beck
I come closer each day
to the end of my journey
and am still weighed down
with excess baggage,
despite having renounced
caviar, fine wine, Warhols,
but cannot yet give up
books I cherish,
though I still can’t determine
their value in the scheme of things.
Fortunately,
ego has diminished,
so if I’m cremated
my books won’t burn with me,
if I’m interred
they won’t molder with me,
and I’ve almost stopped worrying
about who I’ll leave them to.
About the Poet
Gary Beck has spent most of his adult life as a theater director. He has 14 published chapbooks. He also has published numerous novels and short story collections. His original plays and translations of Moliere, Aristophanes, and Sophocles have been produced Off-Broadway. His poetry, fiction, and essays have appeared in hundreds of literary magazines. He lives in New York City
Vita Brevis Press. 
Beautiful and relatable poem that highlights the profound effect books have on our lives.