A Good Life?

 Well, I'm not a poet, but I felt like writing this:

A Good Life?

Saturday morning, sitting in that pew
I watch - one by one they stand there
A daughter, a son, a choir member, a camp counselor
"He laughed, he made beautiful music, and he loved"

You were never famous, and you weren't rich
You didn't star in movies, or give your music to sold out crowds
You didn't live in a mansion, no one wore merchandise with your name on it
But you laughed, you made beautiful music, and you loved

When they mourn him, will a daughter dab her eyes with a tissue and say
"he took money from cancer research and gave big tax breaks to the rich"?
Will a son stand up and fight back his tears and say
"he refused to pay TSA so he could make it harder for women to vote"?

Will old high school buddies come up to that podium and choke out the words
"he deregulated companies so they could pollute the waters we drink"?
Will friends from decades ago stand there and weep as they say
"he condemned the pope while he bombed Iranian schoolgirls"?

I wonder what they'll say about me when I cross that rainbow bridge
I wonder who will come to that podium to speak about the life I led
I doubt I'll be famous, I doubt I'll be rich, but I would be proud if even one said
"He laughed, he brought beauty to the world, and he loved."