My Dirge For Me

As a tree outlives a flower, A blade of grass, a red, red rose, I guess it will not be too long Before my eyes are closed And life was something of my past I’d lived these many, many years, Three score and ten and eight 'til now - Through laughter, joys and tears. For some tomorrow, I will be No longer conscious to this life When all my energy is drained And I have no more strife. In years to come, a hundred or A thousand strong or many more, Who will remember I lived now, This side of my death’s door? W.C.Hull © 2014-29-9-854 (E)