One of these days before I get too old
I think a story should be told
of all of the things I have seen and done
and places I’ve been and the race I have run
of all of the wonderful things on this earth
the places, the people, good times and bad
the moments when losses have made me sad
of people and pets all a part of life
they come and they go each special to me
replaced by new as the old passes on
and all that is left is a memory, a song
to relate to each in a special way
will our paths cross again in some future day
who knows what happens when life has gone
we know the body does not march on
but does our spirit each our very own
continue to live in some special place
mixing with others like those we have known
in our life before here on this earth
when our spirit has a more physical form
and flesh and bone is always the norm
how will we know which spirit is which
with no features to recognize no face to view
and what form will the spirit take
the breeze in the trees the wind on my face
but wait, no face will be mine to feel
no eyes to see, no hands to touch
just a spirit stirring the trees
drifting along with the breeze.