Tired for one last night eyes closing
And for the last day given all that I could want, a memory.
Flightless with the illusion of flight, wind bending across my face,
A white stripe playing across the radio all to grey to black.
A meal, I love you, comfortable and the kitchen in the evening,
Where it was more real to me there than anywhere else.
My list of things to do tomorrow growing without worry
Even if it means my ghosts will always be incomplete,
I will have to be okay with that I made it what I could.
If I sleep and don’t wake up tomorrow I made it what I could.