My eyes open to morning’s light,
The glowing window shining bright,
But so indistinct the colors seem,
Am I aware or still to dream?
And I ponder long, if I should stay,
As the day dawns rose or gray,

A precious moment, rare to see,
And just to maybe hope and be,
The softest, briefest touch of death,
With a still heart and quiet breath,
And I know that, I would rather stay,
As the day turns rose or grey,

But we live to dare and dream and try,
With so little time before we die,
And we must give all we can give,
There is only, just, this chance to live,
And though I linger, I rarely stay,
To watch the day be rose or gray.

JDoyle