I would think that it would be
No big deal
To pass on from this world
Having lived and loved to the fullest
Having walked
Thousands of miles
Having penned
Poems
Of remembrance
In a world so hell bent on forgetting
It is beautiful here
I tell you!
Not unlike the shimmer of the lake
The wisp in the trees
The stillness of being alone
On a trail with wings high above
And all around
With dazzling sparkle
Oh, sunlight through the morning fog
I used to think
That nothing could be more wondrous.
You have reminded me of the power
Of putting one foot in front of another
That to write and to write true
You only need three eyes
Two feet
One hand
And a small small piece of tattered paper
A notebook is more practical.
Indeed.
I can be
A simple old lady
In a black sweater
In tennis shoes
And a shopping bag
Walking in a sea coast town
In the cold and fog
And carry
Moonbeams
And supernovas
Inside.