Moments left behind

Mortal is the name for us
We exist for a time being just.
When the clock stops ticking
And we stop existing;
Has anyone any idea
What would we leave behind here?
Neither the fame which was ours to hold
 Nor the money we kept in our folds;
Probably the songs we sung in the green fields
And the words we used for ourselves to shield.
But, mostly just moments in the souls of those
Who have adored us the most.
For memories will be the single thing
That people will cherish about our beings.
For their hearts will freeze those images
Of moments spent with us never worth loosing
And no money would be able to match,
The worth of these priced artefacts.
Forever they will stay,
Locked away in a solid safe.
The safe ,called heart
Which holds all the body's art.

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