Let It Be A Dance
On damp mornings as I count Arthritic joints
I know that neither burial or cremation is going to hurt,
That I won't notice it as the heartbreaking undertaker smashes around in my chest.
Now that the minutes are so long and the years so short,
I hold tight to life, but I am courting death.
Death's attraction is a slow dance,
'Getting to Know You' one step at a time, until the body is sure.
No extreme procedures.