Read every line etched on my face
That tells of the time along with the place

Where a story this old
Will not go untold

Look in my eyes that have been clearer most days
And the secrets they hold that they won't give away

The ones collected in my youth
If you must know the truth

And the hands that I have with the ache and the hurt
Arthritic most times in their twists and their turns

But still able to wave to the dead
Friends that have left

With the buckling of knees and the thinning of hair
As my hearing in and out leaves for somewhere other than here

And these brittle bones that are cold
With the shivers of old

The mirror on the wall no longer reflects my memory
Holds nothing I want nor do I care to see

Just look at this body to read
Life's story

an untwisting of the mat
the fibre holding it as one
is fast becoming undone
its time verily nigh

I love my little garden Lord
Which you have given me
I thank you for this heaven
Where I can feel so free

I pray each night to give me strength
To sow more wondrous seeds
And for you to bless the birds
Who fly right in to feed

I bless you for my sight and smell
To enjoy the flowers so
And all the bees and butterflies
Who gently come and go

So bless my little garden Lord
It gives me peace and joy
For I have prayed each night to you
Since I was just a boy

Keith Wilson  Windermere. UK.  2017.

I’ll meet you in the meadow, among the wildflowers.
I’ll meet you on the mountaintop, at the break of dawn.
I’ll meet you by the fountain, where we will while away the hours;
I’ll greet you with a poem, I’ll greet you with a song.

I’ll meet you on the steps of the cathedral made of stone;
I’ll be wearing white and gold, and my hair will be braided.
We will walk toward the altar, where vows we will intone.
We would remember always, our love that never faded.

I’ll meet you in my visions, I’ll meet you in my dreams.
We live together always in my vivid memory.
We will never be apart in the essence of my psyche,
because although you died, you still live as part of me.