It Fades

The pictures on the wall, I pasted when I was small. Those paintings I had made Of stones like Ruby or Jade. Some diaries could be seen, I wrote when I was a teen. Some poems were kept in folders I wrote when I needed shoulders. Although they all are rumpled, Torn apart and crumpled. And now I am getting weak, Getting more wrinkles on cheek. And now I could barely see, Just some newspapers and cups of tea. And now I have memories to remember, To laugh at moments we made together. But here I go to listen eulogies, In the beautiful box covered by roses and Lilies. Here I go to have some rest, To leave some people who are the best. And here I go like a beautiful bride, To enter the world afterlife.