A Modest Request


When I grow old and weary, 
legs all atremble,
unable to walk far, 

and my garden—

the delightful colors, 
the delicate shapes, 
the delicious scents,

when my garden— 

eyes weak and bleary,
too distant to see,

then please, 
if you will, 

bring my garden to me.

j

Our Destiny


Sooner or later,
Things what they are,

No matter 
how healthy we seem,

How crisp the mind,

A tipping 
point 
arrives,

A place of apprehension,
Of uncertainty,

Of no going back.

Sooner or later,
Things what they are,

Vision dims,
Sounds muddy,
Balance wobbles.

A place of apprehension,
Of uncertainty,

Of no going back.

Sooner or later,
Things what they are,

Memories melt,
Vocabulary dwindles,
Friends lose touch.

A place of apprehension,
Of uncertainty,

Of no going back.

Sooner or later,
Things what they are.

Muscles weaken,
Weight dissolves,
Doctoring frequent,

A place of apprehension,
Of uncertainty,

Of no going back.

Sooner or later,
Things what they are,

A tipping 
point
arrives.

 j