Here I sit, rocking gently.

On my porch this summers day.

Across the way, I see a blur.

My eyes do fail me at my age.

I rub them gently, look again.

Eyes focus yards away.

A man stands tall, he’s not of here.

His eyes dark, for such bright midday.

My time is here, I’ve lived a while.

My book prepared me for this fate.

But even after 99 years…

I still had so much left to say.

I’d like to thank the trees

For I napped amongst their shade.

Sing to the birds, one last song.

To repay them for their serenades.

I’d dance for the rain, on my way out.

To wash my sins away.

For the Angel of Death is here for me.

And for the first time in 99 years

I am unafraid.