Contemplating the end |
Having just reached a ripe Middle Age Thought I’d just poetize one other The Day that I Die, a warm rainy day That’s when I plan to pass away I’ll no longer care for sun, rain, or snow And finally discover what none of us know In life we all ponder, pontificate, guess What’s in store when we pass from this mess As for my poems on the day that I die, No more changes or edits to try My paintings as well are finished, are done All are for you, to enjoy, to have fun No more laughter nor tears will I see For surely you know, there is no more me The day that I die I’ll abide with my Host Maybe I’ll wander a bit as a ghost My children and friends may sorrow a bit But be happy for me, I’m away from all shit Lift a glass, sing a song, remember my best Have a fine party, I’ll attend as a guest My children, my promise wherever I stay I’ll be caring for you each hour, each day Don’t ever despair or feel your alone We can always chat, no need for a phone After the day that I die So spread my ashes on mountain on sea Return to the earth, that’s the way it should be Charge forward with life, try for your best I’ll meet you again when you come to rest After the day that I die |