What an awakening of words, Had I only been able to utter Your truths so many, Years before this day. What would you have shaped My truths to be, dear friend, At an age so very young Which tried to be such an age so old?
I command the words
To do my bidding,
Yet they are only mine
For such a very short time.
Once breath has left
This frail, human frame,
The words will no longer
Arrange at the wave
Of my humble yet gifted hands.