I sat once reading softly to an old old lady
All from deeply within my Poetry file~
And she rested in a half thinking sleep
But as well listening to me all the while~
She moved over a little and glanced at me
And she then whispered in a little voice~
I know now that I am dying .. but
I want you to know thats its my choice~
But .. She said I will miss all the sunsets
And the oceans on a cloudy day~
I will miss the Australian deserts wide
And my leafy walk just out back here by the way~
I will miss all the birds that fly and sing
And all the spring blossom and the flowers too~
I'll miss the moon when its largely full and yellow
And Terry she said softly I ll miss the likes of you~
I'll miss the mountains tall and the hills so green
The deepest valleys that are long and narrow~
Music .. she said .. oh yes ,, I ll miss music
And my flowers out there in that old wheel barrow~
I ll miss so my writing of my all poetry and prose
And yes life as its been for me on earth~
And oh how I will miss the little children too
But where Im going it has far greater worth~
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