Where will I be
when I turn sixty-three?

Will summertime
come to find
me sitting on
a chair in my
back lawn,
as a stray cat
stretches out
and yawns
to the setting
of the evening sun.

Or will dawn fine me
rising old and lonely
with more regret
for what I have not
done yet
and never will.

Will I be
the patriarch
of a late start
family,
with grandchildren
swarming me.

Or will death find me
several years to early
making sixty-three
this millennial’s
never will be
late night fantasy.