Ready

As night time falls, Sleep closes our eyes, And the day comes around before we realize The hours have gone and our life's getting shorter, Getting older and weaker, we try to live longer. Men are destined for this, none of us special We are all made of matter and matter is mortal. So we make do with deeds, plans, and our given time We may meet our end while writing some rhyme. I know an old man with a flashy new car I told him 'you won't need it when you ride a star' I smile thinking some still run after money, With aching knees and arthritis, they can't seem to see All wealth's left behind us with a tinge of regret That we can't take them at all when we meet Death. Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~4.18.16