What May Come Poem by James P. Roberts

Do not tell me I do not
know what is coming,
proud bookish one,
secure in your knowledge.
The symptoms you describe
I have felt for years.
The body's slow decay
is quickening now.
That which once was easy
is all a great effort.
It takes up so much
of my time, often
it is the work of a whole day.
My value diminishes
even as my mind hungers on.
I do not know when
that day will come,
but I know
what choice I will make
and leave you, hopefully,
full of doubt and dismay.