In the face of death the old ones speak,
like a young poet beneath the tree
where memories echo in the wind.
Each bargaining death for more time,
yearning for one last huge and kiss,
and one last adventure before they leave.
Lingering behind their weary eyes
the birth of their children is imagined
once more the old ones weep.
Love wraps the old ones before death,
with their last rejoice in hand,
their journey comes to the finish line.