No One Of Note (Poetry)

I’ve put off being famous
I don’t pick up the phone
It’s such a lot of bother
I’d rather die unknown

My poems sing their music
some dollars find the bank
now time’s the bigger issue
and no one left to thank

The years of pages written
are stacked behind life’s door
they’re curling at the edges
the words grown old and poor

I have no mind for stardom
my face won’t fit that scene
my pen turns out excuses
for someone I’ve not been

I cannot chance the spotlight
I’d wither in its glare
most names go unremembered
and who am I to care?