When I grow up
and become old and wrinkly,
I want to sit outside and write.

I will write under a big oak tree
because I love the wind and grass rubbing my knees.
I will write til the day fades to night
and watch the wise old owl fly out of sight.

When I grow up
and become old and wrinkly,
I want to die, just as I lived.
In peace, with my thoughts, my mistakes,
and my world.