I've tried for many an hour and minute
To think of this world without me in it.
I can't imagine a new-born day
Without me here . . . somehow . . . some way.
I can not think of autumn's flare
Without me here . . . alive . . . aware.
I can't imagine a dawn in spring
Without my heart awakening.

These treasured days will come and go
At swifter pace . . . but this I know . . .
I have no fear . . . I have no dread
Of that marked day that lies ahead.
My flesh will turn to ash and clay
But I'll be here . . . Somehow . . . some way.