Write a will for what goes where after we die.
Put our trust and legacy into, “I know this guy.”
Egg and sperm met with imperfect timing,
Yet, as years pass, forgotten is the silver lining.
A mother’s eyes, if you’re lucky, express empathy.
The child, if you’re lucky, will show some sympathy.
But we all are the mistaken miracles of conception
Forced by time to accept reality or choose deception.
Yes, time, experience and age will take its unmerciful tole.
We meditate, we pray, but it’s the dice we roll.
When we near the end and mind and sight are dim,
Courage is exposed, not from without, but from within.