No matter where I tuck it, it can’t stay
I don’t keep everything, just bits of clay
That make up who I am, in effigy

It’s not like I keep idols on display
A root I save to grow another day
Newspapers now forgotten, fade away
My dusty hands are earnest when they pray

I know what I should save and what can’t stay
Mostly inside my heart, where memories lay
I don’t scrapbook, organize, fillet
My memories, in frying pan sautée

Leftovers that I’d rapidly misplace
So my deliberate archive is the way
To mentally decide what I should save
To choose what my sad legacy may say

But everything I save gets thrown away
The bulbs I dug out after garden’s prime
Now lost to basements, bad luck and time

I guess my ultimate legacy will lay
Despite my efforts, in your hearts, I pray
Please let it grow there — a stable, sweet soufflé
Since everything I save gets thrown away

It’s my own fault, as I can’t seem to see
What matters more is saving what’s in me