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I want to live to be two hundred,

hidden away in some old folks’ home,

dragged out on my birthday to pose for social media.

A dried up old prune nobody really knows;

no cherished memories of me taking them for walks,

candy in my pockets to share

away from their mothers’ prying eyes.

Just a vague memory in family myths and legends.

Extended family and acquaintances happy

I have finally taken flight to rejoin love ones buried long ago.

I want to live to be two hundred

so my passing won’t leave a hole

in hearts that never close or heal.

Our conversations and moments together

played over and over and over,

questions and answers left unspoken.

I don’t want my last act on this earthy plane

to carve a chasm in lives

of love not shared until they take flight

and rejoin me beyond the veil.

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