Jun 24
I have more years behind me
Than in front of me,
Scares me to the bone,
I know that I am not alone
In thinking that we are going to die,
we return to the dust from whence we came,
The good, the bad, the wild the tame,
From death, we are not free,
you never think that it might be you,
Waiting in a queue,
To die.
I sit and think of my mortality.
I try to convince myself that death is inevitable,
my spirit is vulnerable,
While my body decomposes,
My soul remains intact, by Dorothy Maude