Aged 99

Age is just a number, they said.

99 years of life, just a number.

99 years till a timely death,

For some definition of timely.

I took a walk some years ago

Through hills and woods and snow

And found a cabin sitting still

On a path long untraveled

1 door, 4 doorways,

1 table, 3 plates,

1 bedroom, 2 beds,

1 fireplace, just numbers.

A 50-50 chance I make it

To another year, another number.

A 4-month median survival.

But I’m not a number, they said.

 I took a walk some years ago

Through the trees into a meadow,

And I found a piece of glass

Shining in the grass, in the sun.

6 sides, an irregular hexagon,

Its past forgotten, its future unknown

To me, but even to itself.

Perhaps especially to itself.

6 more months to another number,

Those months to be forever unknown.

Because time is up, and my clockwork heart

Rang out its final tone.