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“Thoughts On My End by Stewart Stafford My last moments slip away, On which day, at what time? Snow chilling bones faster? Sweat in blinding sunshine? Halloween, Xmas or Easter? Evening or just after dawn? Pass away on my birthday? Gifts, mass cards all drawn? Will it be in long, slow agony? Or mercifully fast and painless? What will my drug of choice be? Will I be conscious or brainless? Who will be at my bedside? Many or no one, who can say? Kind words or total silence? I’ll hear and be on my way. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.” — Stewart Stafford
Thoughts On My End by Stewart Stafford
My last moments slip away,
On which day, at what time?
Snow chilling bones faster?
Sweat in blinding sunshine?
Halloween, Xmas or Easter?
Evening or just after dawn?
Pass away on my birthday?
Gifts, mass cards all drawn?
Will it be in long, slow agony?
Or mercifully fast and painless?
What will my drug of choice be?
Will I be conscious or brainless?
Who will be at my bedside?
Many or no one, who can say?
Kind words or total silence?
I’ll hear and be on my way.
© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.