Somehow we want our simple names we cast
upon a paper or a card to last
beyond that smudge of ink. Some rigid bark
becomes a slate to carry forth our mark
within a living tree. A plot of dead
cement can also hold a single thread
of letters drawn into a sidewalk’s face
to leave some words you can’t erase.
We don’t regret the minutes spent in line
to watch a player take a ball and sign
that roughened surface with his famous name.
Inside a book we proudly flaunt the same
from any author’s pen. Those letters give
a special part of people who will live
in spirit far outside themselves, and leave
a chance for us to dream and to believe.
A Concord couple used her ring to etch
their names into a window pane, a sketch
displaying in a graphic form, the thought
of unity. The Hawthornes’ love was brought
with simple signature to witness there.
And we are awed by glass that frames this pair.
Our briefest chance to reach and touch the wing
of immorality remains the thing
that makes us scrawl our names across the sky
and not look back, or even wonder why.