I have counted the gemstones in old men and blind men and rhinestones and bones of the dead
many have said, how they shine
how I wish, how I wish they were mine.

oh my dear,
when the time of a time not yet thought of in rhyme becomes clear and the hands of the clock reach out,
when the seer has saw or has seen in a dream what has passed on before this,
kiss your mother goodbye.

I count up to ten again
take a deep breath,
calming, disarming
how we hate death.

As for rubies or pearls
I would rather have girls,
more precious than gold
hold on while you may,
tomorrow may not come
there may be only today.