The Amateur

When I am long gone and dead
If anyone at all remembers me
What will they say? What can they say?
“He was an amateur.”
Better than average
In many things
A good player of chess
Spent time with his kids
Did not achieve any personal dreams
Although he had a few
He liked taking pictures
And they were good too
He earned his pay
A working wage
A good wage, yet
For “good” is appreciated
He played the drums
Once a time long ago
And acted in a play or two
Or at least that’s what they said
He wanted too, to write it down
He had so much to say
But, of course, something or the other
Would always get in the way
When he did express a sentiment
In a story, gripe or letter
It was eloquent and fully felt
Though a bit less than professional
Thought himself a preacher of views
A little different from what most would agree to
Gambled some, just about even
Played softball too, a little less evenly
But managed from the couch
His Mets
With slightly more
Than average intelligence
He was a loving dad
And honest friend
When time permitted
Artist, thinker
Whatever he did, he did it well
Not best
But, well
Amateurish

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