Makes You Think

If I go on long enough
there will become less of me;
I’ll fade, I’ll wither, I’ll shrink;
I’ll become more bone less flesh, don’t you think?

I suppose if I do go on long enough
I‘ll have had enough. I’ll stop
eating. They’ll just give me water to drink
and I’ll drift off, don’t you think?

No more strolls by the sea when that day comes.
I must make the most of the lone bird on his perch,
of the ebb and the flow. I know it’ll be over in a blink.
Something to bear in mind, don’t you think?