The End of the Plot
Don't know how many years I have left
Could be one, could be ten, could be twenty
Pretty good shape for a man of seventy-eight
But I'm starting to think of it plenty
It's only natural as you get along in years
To start wondering when that day will arrive
When your numbers up, it's the end of the line
No matter how hard you try to survive
Can't imagine people who end their own lives
They know they'll be gone and forgotten
Everything they've lived for since being a child
Must really have reached rock bottom
Even with what seems like my upbeat nature
Must admit it's on my mind quite a lot
Guess it's only natural considering my years
We eventually reach the end of the plot
In all honesty don't think I'll be leaving just yet
With my family history of longevity
Living to well into the eighties was common
So worrying is really not necessary
© Jack Ellison 2014
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