A journey with a friend home, a journey all alone,

Last night at campsite, a time for conversation.

A little supper under the stars, light from a fire,

Unusual talk from the lips of a friend, saying something.

He wanted to leave his mark on the world, on a friend he would,

He was to go away that night, a friend by his side.

That started a friend thinking, he wanted to be remembered,

He needed to make his wife and family understand, for himself.

Afraid that he would be forgotten, so afraid, who would remember his name,

A project with his name on it, wood tables with only his Initials would be.

One hundred years later a single worn piece of furniture many would see,

His initials would be, his name never known, he wanted to be remembered.

Keith Garrett

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