If my life shall come to a close
Then I’m leaving the snow. Take me to where the orange sunset glows.
Doctor, oh, surgeon with those skillful hands, can you reverse
the disease? Any crafty tricks up your white sleeves?
Neglect diagnosis and the agony of family.
Keep smiling for work, in the morning press my shirt.
Mid-fifties, it’s sinking in, oh no, much too soon.
Every time I see the sun I wish for a hiatus to avoid the moon.
My mind and muscles in decline, this is dementia times five.
Where is God, this “lord raised on high?!”
Now I only have my eyes, but more love and care than luxuries could buy.
Just sit, son, relax and watch a movie with me tonight.
An ice bucket challenge funded science to study my genes.
A cure won’t be timely for all of my means, but for you and the world, stay calm, just breathe.
“He’s turning into an angel”, she cried as I left.
Earthly possessions stay behind and well kept, you’ll feel me hovering so closely instead.
Vote for your favorite poem and story at cltampa.com/writingcontest through March 3.
