Hark, the bright lights grow near.
Please note I wish
not to be missed.
Let the bell toll slow and steady.
Let the tone ring heavy hits.

As those bells and lights consume me,
As the cold night wraps tight to me,
As I drift off in the moon’s beam,
I ask of you that no tear slips.

For I have had what most have not.
I’ve had enough, though not a lot.
My bed’s been warm.
My food’s been hot.
In comfort, I was rich.

So now I will accept the way
in which decay can come with age
Though I hope my memory will stay
once I am set adrift.