My time’s growing short here,
with so many things I’ve left hanging.
But when your end-time grows near,
yet your heart’s still banging,
you make time to pull out a pen
to make the list you never wrote
of things you need to do like other men
before your life becomes an obit note.
But when you hit that certain age,
and a certain diagnosis hits you,
such dreams come easily onto a page
of acts never realized, but are now Must-Do.
I made a difference in lives here and there,
took an airplane’s controls in my hands,
wrote poems, stories and books, unaware
they might take me to some foreign lands.
I’ve never seen the Grand Canyon at dawn,
nor Yellowstone’s natural wonders.
I have seen nature in a newborn fawn,
and I realize that this is a list of blunders
I’ve made in not looking up, the world to spy,
to live each day like there’d be no other,
and tried making a better me for you, so I
could’ve enjoyed this life instead of waiting on another.