Death

The ghostly wraith draws ever close, He holds his hourglass high The sands run steady in his glass, The end is drawing nigh. I know there is no Heaven, And surely there’s no Hell, And so whatever happens, Will do me very well. The end is coming closer, But I don’t have a fear. For me it holds no terror, Life ripens year by year. My youthful dreams all came to pass; There’s nothing that I lack. Now nearly five-score years, I know I’m never coming back. What will ensue, I used to ask; What will then appear? Exactly how it used to be Before I landed here.