How nice
to fade into the sunset
And leave
behind all earthly cares
And
work-related headaches
Which, on
second thoughts,
Wouldn't
be such a good idea after all
If sunrise
brought it all back, Jack.
How nice
to melt into the wind
And shed
the mantle of human toil and suffering
That's
worn like a second skin
Since the
day you were born,
In my
case,
Fifty-three
weather-beaten years ago, Jo.
