I will not be prepared to meet my doom
I have not planned or practiced self defense
I own no weapons save for kitchen tools
Which may not serve to save in any sense
Because I have not stockpiled any food
But only hoard things of no consequence
Old books old clothes old memories old dreams
My old school ring contains a little gold
If only I remembered where it was
And I am old and settled in my ways
Unmoved by prophesy I spend my days
As if time had forever to be kind
I trust in God and man a bit too much
And smile at strangers flowers and stray cats
And only scan the skies to praise the clouds
And look for rainbows scattered by the sun
I tend to leave important things undone
I think I would be just as glad to die
As I was to live



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