Final Journey Poem by John Shea

There will be a benign smell in the air,
And colorful avian creatures everywhere.
Morsels of love spread on a table,
Adorned with gold and silver.
This is no fable.
I flew with them once, When I was quite young,
But returned through a portal,
Back into the waiting sun.
Now so tired and gray,
I long to go back with a smile,
just to say,
I missed you my breathren,
Let us celebrate and fly.
For the love of heaven and earth,
Let us not cry.